Chapter Text
Queens, New York City
STAR Labs. A New York-based tech company ranked fourth in the world. If its ambitious CEO had his way, the company would skyrocket to number one tonight.
Outside the sleek, disc-shaped building housing STAR Labs’ corporate headquarters, a large crowd gathered under bright lights. The crowd was eager. Well, the front half was anyway; the back half was too busy waving around protest signs.
Up on a stage was the CEO himself, Harrison J. Wells: wheelchair-bound and in his middle age, but clean-shaven and dressed to the nines with a professorial pair of glasses. Flanked on each side were neat gatherings of some of the world's best scientific minds, each wearing white lab coats over their formal wear, and at his right hand was a young black lady with braided hair and a proud smile. While Harrison Wells was the most high-profile name on the podium, tonight's achievement belonged to all of them.
After some clapping and cheers, Wells spoke to the microphone attached to the podium in front of him. “Thank you. My name is Harrison Wells, and tonight, the future begins.”
The good doctor smirked with equal parts pride and anticipation. He continued, “The work my team and I will do here will change our understanding of physics. We'll bring about advancements in power. Advancements in medicine. It'll bring about advancements, period. This is the future. And trust me, it'll be here faster than you think.”
Once the press conference ended, the crowds dispersed. The protesters in the crowd continued their demonstration, marching around STAR Labs, demanding the shutdown of a project they are convinced will doom the world.
The rest have returned to the fair-like grounds in front of the corporate building, enjoying its entertainment and amenities as they await the countdown until STAR Labs’ Particle Accelerator activates. A grand occasion, indeed…
Assuming Wells’ pet project doesn't tear open a black hole in the middle of New York City.
Among the revelers enjoying STAR Labs’ hospitality is a seemingly unassuming immigrant family having dinner at the grassy picnic area near the food vendors. This family included an elder matriarch, a relaxed adult woman, an excited adult man, and a teenage girl who had barely eaten her cooling gyro.
After swallowing her cheesecake, the matriarch, Muneeba Khan, turned to the adult woman and asked her daughter-in-law, “So how was your first day in that fancy new office?”
Putting down her funnel cake, the woman, Tyesha, smiled and said, “Amazing! Horton & Associates is no joke, and… I know I might be jumping the gun here, but I think this might be the one.”
“Ouch,” the adult man, Aamir, said jokingly, “Should I be worried?”
“Not even close,” Tyesha said, placing a teasing kiss on her fiancé's bearded cheek.
Muneeba laughs. Without seriousness, the older woman said, “Save yourselves until the wedding, lovebirds.”
The married couple laughed.
Muneeba then asked, “And Aamir? How was your interview?”
“You know what? I think I might have crushed it,” the man said with a hopeful smile.
“Really?”
He nodded. “Really. The hiring manager seemed interested. We talked for over an hour. That’s a good sign, right?”
“My man the security guard,” Tyesha said, kissing her fiancé’s cheek again. “Does this mean you’ll start going to the gym more often? You know, as part of your job? I’d love to see that…”
The somewhat dirty joke gets everyone laughing. All except for the moody teen at the table, one Kamala Khan. It only takes a second for the adults at the table to notice their local mood killer.
Clearing his throat, Aamir asked with a smile to mask his nervousness. “What about you, little sis? Orientation was today, right? How’s the new school?”
“Fine, I guess,” Kamala said, limply poking at her cold gyro with her finger.
“Met anyone cool?” Tyesha pipes up.
Kamala simply shrugged, not even bothering to vocalize an answer that time. The rest of the dinner would proceed in awkward silence. After the Khan family ate their dinner (Kamala would eat her cold gyro in the end), Aamir and Tyesha decided to spend more quality time over some carnival games, leaving Muneeba alone to deal with her moody teen.
Gathering behind a neglected stand containing STAR Labs-branded chemistry kits, Muneeba placed her hands on Kamala’s shoulders and gently asked, “What’s on your mind, beta?”
Back hunched, an agitated Kamala Khan spoke out, “You know what’s wrong.”
“But how can I make it better?” Muneeba asked with a pleading look. “You can talk to me, Kamala. Please…”
The teenage girl inhaled sharply, trying in vain to keep back the tears forming in her eyes. “How can you all just… Pretend that nothing happened! We uprooted our entire lives in Jersey and moved to an entirely different city!”
“You know why we had to go,” Muneeba said firmly, but gently.
“Did we, though?” Kamala replied bitterly. “I didn’t. I definitely didn’t! I had to leave behind Nakia, Bruno… Dad…”
Muneeba sighed, restraining her own sorrow in her heart. “Your father is gone, beta. We need to move on. He… He would’ve wanted us to move on.”
Kamala shrank. Lowering her head, she shut her eyes, and tears seeped through the narrow space between the lids.
With shuddering breath, the suffering girl said, “So what? We just… Keep going on? Pretend that everything is okay? Leave our old life in Jersey behind and make it like he never existed? Is that how we heal?”
“Oh, Kamala…” Muneeba outstretched her arms. “Come here.”
Almost instantly, Kamala threw herself into her mother’s embrace, pressing her face against her shoulder and soaking the older woman’s shirt with her tears. The girl sobbed and then wailed. An agonizing, soul-piercing wail.
With shaky breath, Kamala cried, “I miss him! So, so much… Why did he have to go? Why did he have to go so soon?”
Muneeba could only hold her daughter tightly as the older woman’s own tears spilled from her eyes. “I don’t know… I don’t know. God, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss your father. Some days, it hurts so bad that I can barely breathe!”
Sniffling, Muneeba then wiped away her tears with one hand. Pulling away from her daughter, the older woman looked at Kamala in her reddened eyes and told her, “But we have to keep moving forward, beta! That’s the only way we can live.”
Like a lost lamb, Kamala rubbed her snotty nose and gingerly asked, “Even if it means leaving him behind?”
Gently, Muneeba wiped the tears from her daughter’s cheek. “Moving on… It doesn’t mean we forget your father. We can still carry him with us. In our hearts. But we need to keep living, Kamala. No matter how hard it is, we have to keep living. Can you do that for me? Please?”
Kamala looked off at the space behind her mother’s neck, the young girl’s eyes staring at something only she could see. It took a bit, but Kamala eventually looked back at her mother and said, “I can try…”
Kamala wasn’t sure she believed that, but what else could she say?
“That’s all I ask, my love,” Muneeba said, placing a kiss on her daughter’s forehead. “That’s all I ask…”
Holding Kamala’s hand, Muneeba gently guided her wounded daughter out from behind the abandoned stand. Aamir and Tyesha were walking back to them, apparently no longer in a gaming mood. Or a festive mood, for that matter. The younger adults’ eyes were on Kamala, the girl’s misery obvious by the swelling around her eyes.
“Are you okay, sis?” Aamir asked.
Kamala paused for a second, and then she shook her head. “Can we go home? I’m not really feeling the Particle Accelerator hype right now.”
Muneeba kissed Kamala on the top of her head. “Of course we can, beta.”
Tyesha took a look at Kamala, then at Muneeba, then at her fiancé. Nodding, she said, “I never really got this science nerd crap anyway. Let’s go.”
RUMBLE!
The ground shook! The force was so sudden that the entire family’s knees buckled. It’s a minor miracle that no one collapsed from the tremor.
“What the hell?!” Tyesha exclaimed.
Kamala was the first to see it. Pointing at the horizon, the young girl shrieked, “Look!”
The entire Khan family’s eyes were pointed in the same direction now. At the STAR Labs building. A building that was being split open by a giant spike of hellish light!
Muneeba exclaims. “Haey Allah! What even is that?!”
BRAAAM! BRAAAM! BRAAAM!
Alarms. Something has indeed gone wrong.
Screams fill the air as hordes of people scramble to evacuate the grounds, fleeing whatever hell that the machine inside STAR Labs was about to unleash. Even the protestors don’t spare a second to savor their vindication, tripping over one another as they try to exit ground zero with their lives.
“We have to go! Now!” Aamir said before grabbing his fiancée by the arm. The man tried going for his little sister too, but…
Kamala looked up. A second later, gold lightning hovered over her head. The next second, white-hot agony burned through every one of her synapses. After a moment of weightlessness, the girl crashed into something solid and was then drenched in liquids with unfamiliar smells.
The poor girl lost consciousness fast. The last thing she saw before darkness took her was her family rushing over to her and crying out her name.
And then came the dreams. A green light. The sound of crushed metal. And the voice of her father telling her something she can't quite piece together entirely.
“My… Little… Marvel…”
Nine Months Later
All things considered, New York City handled the explosion of STAR Labs’ Particle Accelerator well. Seventeen people died, and many more were injured. However, worse things have happened to this city.
And life goes on in the Big Apple. For some, this means a high-adrenaline car chase through the city's seedier streets.
In the early morning, a pair of low-level crooks botched a robbery at a jewelry store, making off in a worn-down Corolla with only a handful of accessories hurriedly stuffed in a duffle bag. Unfortunately for them, a police cruiser was nearby and was giving chase. And double unfortunately for everyone involved, the streets the two cars just entered were not empty at all.
Startled pedestrians shrieked as the two multi-ton, metal death machines raced by them, pelting them with rushing air and engine noises. Though the criminals were ahead and channeled their inner Fast and the Furious, the cop car behind them was slowly catching up.
Goon #1, hopped up with adrenaline and anxiety, opened the passenger window. He then looked over to Goon #2 in the driver's seat.
With a gruff snarl, Goon #1 commanded, “Slide over and slow down! I'll take care of the pigs!”
Goon #1 flashed his 9mm. Goon #2 glanced over to the weapon briefly before nodding and deftly turning to the next lane. Slowing down suddenly, the Corolla was now right next to the police cruiser, with the passenger seat containing the homicidal Goon #1 directly overlooking the front seats containing two frightened police officers.
With slightly sociopathic ease, Goon #1 leveled his handgun at the cops and pulled the trigger.
BANG! The first shot went wide.
BANG! The second shot hit the door.
BANG! The third shot broke through the window and barely missed the cops inside.
Lining a shot at the driver's head, Goon #1 gritted his teeth and was ready to score a kill shot. And then…
SWOOSH!
A red and yellow streak swept through the Corolla! One second later, the front seat of the cheap car was empty.
The saved cops looked on with confusion for a second before hearing confused groaning behind them. Turning around to the back seat, the two cops see Goons #1 and #2 already seated and handcuffed, both criminals looking just as confused as the cops.
Unfortunately, the troubles don't end there.
Before his abduction, Goon #2 had pumped up the speed and was a second away from making a left turn. With no hands on the steering wheel, the racing car was one second away from colliding with the sidewalk ahead.
Most of the civilians were lucky enough to run or jump out of the path of the lumbering machine. A little girl in a green sweater, however, froze. The car's headlights lit up her frightened eyes…
CRASH!
The car burst into a clothing store, splattering glass and wood inside the formerly classy interior. Curiously, the mess lacked any blood or viscera.
The little girl opened her eyes. Instead of seeing heaven, she saw a brown-skinned teenage girl with long, chestnut-brown hair and wearing a black domino mask. The taller girl was carrying her like a precious babe. Gently, the teenage heroine put the little girl back on the sidewalk. Due to the shock still present in her system, the little girl's knees buckled for a second.
“Easy there, kid,” the costumed teenager said with a gentle hush. “Are you okay?”
The little girl looked back up at her savior, stars still dancing over her beady eyes. She took a much closer look at the hero's colorful costume. It was a full-body leather piece with long sleeves, predominantly red from the waist up and yellow from the waist down. She had on yellow gloves and red boots to break up the halved color scheme a bit. On the hero girl's chest is a black U symbol with stylized angel wings on both ends.
Although the costume looks sleek and up to par with other hero suits at first inspection, a closer examination reveals patches of chipped leather and obvious stitching, signaling either rushed repairs or sloppy modifications. Such flaws didn't matter to the little girl, however. The girl was staring at the woman who had just saved her life. From her stare and gaping mouth, there was a good chance that the girl just found her new favorite superhero.
“Libby!” Two women shouted as they rushed over to the little girl, their voices tinged with both relief and worry.
“Mommies!” The girl yelled happily as she was lifted into the air by her two mothers.
The two women held their daughter tight, tears coming over the corners of their eyes. One of them opened her leaky eyes to look at the hero who saved her daughter.
“Thank you, Streak,” she said softly.
The heroine, the Streak, who was secretly Kamala Khan, smiled back. However, the glint in her eyes briefly betrayed the jealousy she was holding back inside.
Instead of unloading to a bunch of strangers, however, Kamala simply nodded and said softly, “Just doing my job.”
Unbeknownst to the happy little family, a hidden earpiece channeled a familiar female voice into Kamala’s ear. “Yo, Kamala. The suit's telemetry is picking up a spike in your heart rate. You okay?”
Under her breath, Kamala said, “Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
After giving the family a goodbye wave, the Streak raced away in the opposite direction, leaving behind only a gust of wind and a trail of yellow lightning.
Hey there, true believers!
Let me introduce myself! My name is Kamala Khan, and I am the fastest girl alive!
Nine months ago, the Particle Accelerator exploded, blanketing New York with dark matter and activating the mutant powers of God knows how many people. To the outside world, I’m an ordinary high school student, but secretly, with the help of my team at STAR Labs, I use my super speed to fight crime and find other mutants like me.
And life is pretty sweet! I can run faster than the speed of sound! I have my very own superhero suit! And I even have my own hero name! The Streak!
…
Yeah, that last bit can use some workshopping. The suit too, if we’re being honest. It’s a modified hand-me-down from my wise, old mentor.
But you know what, I’m an honest-to-gosh superhero! What other kids my age get to say that honestly?
Sure, life has put me through the wringer this past year, but I fought a mutant thief who can control the weather and another mutant who can copy himself! Actual supervillains! And I won!
Compared to that, there’s nothing life can throw at me that I can’t handle!
“I don’t think the suit can handle any more of this,” Riri Williams, STAR Labs intern and Kamala’s trusty tech support, said.
Riri had Kamala’s super suit laid out on a table and under a microscope. Apparently, the old, friction-proof suit was starting to tear at the seams, bit by bit. Kamala Khan, now wearing sweatpants and a Captain Marvel shirt, maintained a more positive attitude. Or at least, it looked like she had a positive attitude.
The two girls were in a workshop at STAR Labs, which FEMA had now classified as a hazardous location after the Particle Accelerator Explosion. Though the building was now fenced and blocked from the wider public, the lower levels of STAR Labs could still serve as the high-tech headquarters of a teenage superhero.
With a wide smile, the teenage hero in question said, “I’m sure it’s not that bad!”
RIP!
The modified suit just tore a little along a stitch on a pant leg. The tearing sound was practically deafening. Kamala’s positive facade cracked a little. Riri, on the other hand, looked cool and uncaring as she brought out a specialized sewing kit.
Thankfully, the third member of Team Streak decided to roll in and save the conversation.
“It’s not the end of the world, Kamala,” Harrison Wells reassured, rolling up to the young girl’s side. “That’s what the new suit we’re making is for. The old suit will last long enough for it to be finished. Right, Riri?”
“It’ll be done by the end of the week,” Riri, still working to redo the stitch, said without enthusiasm.
“That’s what you said last week. And the week before that,” Wells reminded the young engineer, only thinly veiling the sarcasm in his voice.
“I’m a busy woman, Wells. It’ll be done when it’s done,” Riri said, waving her hand in a “shove off” motion as she finished the repair.
With a firm but not too demanding tone, Wells said, “Just remember that I’m paying you to give Ms. Khan here the best technical support she can have.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that while I’m working on projects that pay five times the minimum wage you give me,” Riri remarked as she walked away from the fixed super suit without a care in the world.
Wells let out a sigh as his free-spirited intern walked out the automatic doors behind him. Looking at Kamala, he said, “I’m sure she really cares about you. At least, deep down. Maybe. Hopefully.”
Kamala simply shrugged. “A girl’s gotta hustle to make it in this world. I’m not holding it against her.”
Wells laughed a little. “True enough, I suppose.”
He turned his wheelchair around and rolled through the automatic doors. Kamala followed directly behind him. Mentor and mentee entered the Cortex, Team Streak’s command-and-control center, which contained high-tech monitors and a mannequin in the corner meant to hold Kamala’s suit (when anyone remembers to put it in, anyway). All things considered, the place still looks functional despite the grime slowly growing on the walls.
With a serious look, Wells told Kamala, “Don’t get me wrong, you’ve excelled in your duties these past two and a half weeks. You’ve saved so many lives, and I’m pleased to say that you've made great progress when it comes to mastering your speed.”
Not phased by her mentor’s unprompted flattery, Kamala drawled, “But…”
“But you need to work on that reckless streak of yours,” Wells said, dropping the shoe that his mentee absolutely saw coming. Parking his wheelchair in front of Kamala, the older man looked her in the eye and continued, “You disabled the getaway car before clearing the area of civilians. That could've led to serious collateral damage.”
“But it didn't!” Kamala whined.
“I know it didn't. This time,” Wells said, emphasizing that last bit. “Look, Kamala, your speed allows you to have more time than most other heroes have at their disposal. It's up to you to prioritize where that time is spent, and I want you to spend that time wisely.”
“I already know all this!”
Still looking stern, Wells reminded his mentee, “Kamala, when you came to me wanting to use your powers for good, you said you wanted me to teach you how to be the best hero you can be. Well, the best heroes remember that their first responsibility is to the people they swore to protect. If you lose sight of that…”
“I know!” Taking a deep breath, Kamala then said more calmly, “I know. I'll remember that for next time. I promise.”
Wells nodded. “Okay, I trust that you do. You're a good kid, Kamala. And I know you have the potential to become one of the greats. Just take this journey one step at a time, okay?”
Kamala exhaled, more tired than frustrated. “Yeah. Yeah…”
“Can't read my! Can't read my! No, he can't read my poker face!”
Wells smiled at the song blaring from his pocket.
Kamala, however, looked less impressed. “You seriously kept that song as your ringtone?”
“It's a classic!” Wells exclaimed as he lifted his phone. “You ought to listen to more Lady Gaga. She's a cultural experience!”
“You made me listen to that old song when I was waking from my coma. I think I had enough.”
“Old song?” Wells asked, desperately hoping that his mentee was only screwing with him.
“It's older than I am,” Kamala snarked with a grin.
Old Man Wells sighed. “Thanks for that.”
Harrison Wells then put the phone up to his ears. “Hello… Muneeba! How are you?”
Kamala immediately winced, discomfort clear in her shrinking body language.
Seemingly unaware of the change in Kamala’s demeanor, Wells continued with his call. “Kamala is with me right now… You want to talk with her?”
Wells gave his mentee a look. Panicking, Kamala silently swiped her hand over her throat, signaling her unwillingness to talk.
Without question, Wells responded, “Actually, she's busy helping my intern with a project. An extracurricular. For her new school… I know she hasn't started yet, but Kamala wanted to take the initiative. She's a bright young woman. You should be proud… I'll let her know. Bye.”
He hung up. With a sigh, Wells told Kamala, “Your mother wanted to remind you that your first day of school will begin in two hours.”
“I'll make it in time!” An antsy Kamala Khan said as she walked back into the workshop. “I just want to get back on patrol, first! Make sure no one is causing trouble before school starts.”
“You expect to find a lot of crime in the early morning?” Wells remarked unconvinced. The older man waited outside the door so his mentee could change back into her super suit. One second later, she was back out wearing the hastily repaired, red-and-yellow outfit. “Just make sure you make it by 8:00 am sharp. You don't want to be late for your first day in Wayne Academy. Your mother will kill me if you are.”
“Don't worry about it, Dr. Wells!” Kamala exclaimed with an air of puffed-up confidence. “I'm the fastest girl alive! And I'm getting the hang of this hero thing. I promise that I'll make it back by 7:59 at the latest! Speedster's honor.”
Kamala then raced out of the Cortex in a trail of yellow lightning.
Wells yelled behind her, “I'll hold you to that!”
7:59 am
The Wayne Academy in Queens, New York was just one of a dozen private schools bearing that name across the country. Founded by Wayne Enterprises, the Wayne Academy franchise promised some of the best education in the country, especially in the sciences. Admittance to any of the Wayne Academies normally costs a king's ransom.
Thankfully, several scholarships existed for gifted kids whose parents aren't billionaires. As the crowd of uniformed students rushed inside to make the morning bell, one of those “scholarship kids” was making her way to the shiny brass gates of the school.
Riri Williams. A child prodigy from Chicago who was just casually strolling outside the walls with her phone in her hands. Clearly, she valued the text conversation on her phone more than winning the award for perfect attendance.
No Kamala Khan in sight. Until…
SWOOSH!
Coming in at super speed, Kamala made it just in time, lugging her school bag but still wearing her casual clothes from STAR Labs. The teenage heroine had to stop for a moment, sweating and doubling over to take big intakes of breath. Riri, on the other hand, just continued her way to the gate, not stopping or even looking away from her phone.
“Made it… Made it! Thank God!” Kamala said as she rushed over to keep up with her acquaintance.
Despite not looking in Kamala’s direction even once, Riri reminded the girl, “You missing something, Kamala?”
“What?” Kamala vocalized, clearly confused until she looked down at her graphic tee and sweatpants. “Oh crap!”
Kamala then zoomed away at super speed again. One second later, she returned wearing the gray blazer, blue Wayne-branded sweater vest, and blue plaid skirt required by the Wayne Academy dress code.
Running back to Riri's side (at normal speed this time), Kamala said, “Thanks, ah, for the save…”
“Don't mention it,” Riri said disinterestedly as the two girls passed through the school's gates.
The pair barely made it to their respective homerooms on time. From there, the first day of school proceeded as expected. Each period was mostly just the teacher's introduction, a review of the syllabus, and “getting to know you” exercises. Nothing that Kamala had never experienced before in her old school.
And yet, Kamala Khan never lost the unease she felt when exploring this place. While the more advanced course materials were something that Kamala felt like she could adapt to, it was Wayne Academy itself that caused this growing anxiety.
Unlike Coles Academic High, Wayne Academy oozed with money and privilege. Every other name on this campus was some kind of reference to a rich donor. The finely tailored uniform she was wearing didn't feel right on her skin. But the worst part of this new school was the isolation.
Kamala was never the most popular girl in school, but at least she was mostly surrounded by people she could relate to. Unfortunately, most of her peers in Wayne Academy were part of the one percent. These kids engaged in conversations about exotic vacations, inheritance scandals, and other rich people stuff that Kamala had no hope of understanding. It felt too intimidating to try to insert herself into that world. What was worse was all the judgmental stares these kids gave Kamala when they thought she wasn't looking.
The Wells Recovery Scholarship that got Kamala to this school only happened because she got struck by lightning and fell into a coma for nine months. The scholarship was meant to compensate victims of the Particle Accelerator whose injuries disrupted their schooling; this compensation included optional transfers to participating private schools, such as Wayne Academy, for students with the minimum required grades. Kamala Khan absolutely qualified for this transfer, but she wasn't entirely sure that her rich peers respected that fact. Perhaps she'll always just be an unwanted “charity case” to them.
And they’re not completely wrong, Kamala thought. She wasn’t supposed to be in this stupid school. When her family first moved to New York, she was going to attend Rockford T. Bales High, a normal public school for normal kids like her. But because of that stupid scholarship, her family made her attend a rich kids’ school named after one of the richest people in America.
And it's not like Kamala could just leave without damaging her conscience. Her family sacrificed so much to bring her here! The scholarship only covered part of the costs. Her mom, brother, and sister-in-law gave up so much to give Kamala this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And this is after a move to New York that also required a big sacrifice from the family. Doing anything to tank this opportunity would be like spitting in each of their faces.
For better or worse, Kamala Khan was stuck at Wayne Academy and all of its overprivileged studentry.
Lunch period. It may have been naive for Kamala to think so, but she imagined that a school like this would serve caviar, exotic meats, or whatever other crap that rich people like to eat. But no, the cafeteria offerings were fairly mundane.
Though they were still better than the food at her old schools, since Wayne Academy didn't draw from the same suppliers as literal prisons. Oh well, that was a good enough upgrade for Kamala. She probably couldn't afford caviar anyway (not that she's interested in trying it).
After getting her tray of food, Kamala walked past tables of her rich peers, all absorbed in their own worlds too much to include a “peasant.” Not that it mattered. Kamala didn't want to talk to even snobbier versions of Zoe Zimmer or Josh Richardson.
She wanted a real friend. Someone familiar. Someone she felt comfortable having an actual conversation with. And hopefully, that person shared the same lunch period with her.
Luckily enough, Kamala spotted Riri sitting isolated at a round table at the far corner of the cafeteria. Aside from the engineer's own tray of food, Riri had a bunch of mechanical bits and bobs that she was working on. Must be one of her many “projects” that Kamala had heard so much about.
Whatever, there was enough room at the other side of Riri's table. That was the only thing that mattered to Kamala. Genuinely beaming for the first time since entering this school, Kamala walked over to Riri's table and set her tray down.
“Hey, Riri! Whatcha doing?” A bubbly Kamala Khan asked.
“Helping some dumbass nepobaby get into an internship,” Riri answered, not really returning Kamala’s positive energy.
For a moment, Kamala’s chill demeanor cracked. No matter how hard she tried to be nonjudgmental about Riri's side hustles, her good-girl instincts would always cringe at her comrade's casual facilitation of plagiarism and cheating. The fact that Riri's “clients” were generally the kind of people whose only redeeming quality was their money doesn't help matters. Still, Kamala doesn't want to immediately alienate the only friend she's made since the move.
And so, she shrugged. “That’s… Cool! So cool. Um, how much are they paying you?”
This caused Riri to glance away from her work briefly. With a scowl, the young engineer asked, “I don't think that's any of your business, Kamala.”
Kamala winced. Riri's words wounded her in a way that she didn't expect.
She sighed. “I just wanted to have a talk with my friend.”
Riri sighed in return and softened her hard expression. “Look, Kam. I like you, but the only reason why I'm involved with your ‘part-time job’ is because Wells is paying me to be there. And that's been our only interaction with one another. We're coworkers, not friends. You feel me?”
Kamala felt her. Kamala also felt like melting into the floor from the disappointment. She slumped into the shared table, shoving her tray aside and no longer in a mood to eat.
The poor girl only had enough energy to say, “Yeah, sure. I get it…”
After the final bell rang, Kamala Khan immediately turned tail and ran away from the school that, to her, was indistinguishable from prison. As soon as the security cameras were off her, Kamala ran back to STAR Labs at super speed to get her suit. She didn’t even wait for either Wells or Riri to man the tech support monitors.
The young speedster just needed to run. Needed to run away from all the unwanted change in her life. Needed to escape into something she's actually passionate about. Something that will let her forget everything she has lost…
Thankfully, there wasn’t much in terms of schoolwork, so Kamala was free to run around the city as the Streak for the next few hours. And it was good. Simpler.
There was nothing complicated about beating up bad guys and rescuing civilians in distress. The Streak didn’t have to deal with loss or change, not like Kamala Khan. Some days, Kamala wished she could be the Streak 24/7, even if the name could still use some work.
Unfortunately, Kamala can’t quite escape her real life. After the sun went down, Kamala returned her suit to the mannequin at STAR Labs, and she ran back home. Or at least to the three-bedroom apartment in Jackson Heights that her family insisted was their new home.
It was almost ten when Kamala entered the apartment with her backpack lugged over her shoulder. This new home was much smaller than the house they had in Jersey. Before the coma, the apartment was still barren; the furniture hadn’t arrived yet, and the boxes had yet to be unpacked. Now, the apartment was fully furnished with all the furniture, family heirlooms, and photos that any home required to be a real home.
This homey, lived-in atmosphere also had the unfortunate effect of making it clear to Kamala that the move to New York was going to stick. No more delusions that they would go back to Jersey and rebuild the life she once had.
With her mood close to rock bottom, Kamala walked inside, threw her backpack to her room, and followed the smell of spicy food to the quaint little kitchenette/dining room. There, she found Muneeba, Aamir, and Tyesha already getting comfortable in each other’s company.
Oh, and let’s not forget the newest member of the family: Harrison Wells.
Wells was seated right next to Kamala’s mother. The young girl turned her head around as soon as she saw her mom tenderly stroking the arm of a man who wasn’t her late father. Another development that happened while Kamala was in a coma.
Apparently, the two grew really close during that time. Too close, Kamala often thought to herself. In a twisted way, she supposed it made sense. Wells dedicated so much of his time tending to Kamala while she was comatose, stabilizing her body while the lightning bolt molded her biology like Play-Doh. And Muneeba, the grieving widow, found herself drawn to the man who saved her daughter’s life.
Whatever made mom happy, Kamala tried telling herself. The girl could only wish that she could pretend not to see it. Before making her presence known, Kamala lingered in the background for a bit, not wanting to get immediately involved in the banter between her family and Wells.
“No way,” Aamir said to the doctor, speaking to the older man as if they were best friends. “Ain’t no way you’re a superhero.”
“Former superhero, Aamir. Former,” Wells corrected.
“Okay then, which superhero were you ‘formerly,’” Aamir asked in a teasing tone.
“If you must know… I used to be Johnny Quick.”
“Who?” Tyesha asked almost immediately.
Hiding his wounded pride with a smirk, Wells continued, “Johnny Quick. I have the same powers as the Streak.”
“Prove it,” Aamir challenged with a smile.
“Prove it, eh?” Wells then turned to Muneeba with a look that silently asked for his partner's permission. With an amused smirk, Muneeba nodded her head. With her permission received, Wells turned back to Aamir and said, “Alright then. Look.”
Harrison Wells lifted his hand, and it began to spark and vibrate in place at impossible speeds. Aamir and Tyesha nearly fell out of their seats in pure surprise.
“What the hell?! That’s crazy!” Aamir said in between laughter.
Regaining his pride, Wells stopped vibrating his hand and continued, “I was quite the hero back in the day. But, uh, my running days are well behind me. Obviously.”
“I still think you’re amazing, darling,” Muneeba said, placing a kiss on her new man’s cheek. Kamala wished she didn’t see that. “That Streak girl is lucky to have you to teach her.”
“I sure hope so,” Wells said humbly. “She’s an amazing young woman.”
“Do you know who she is behind that mask?” Tyesha asked.
Wells’ smile faltered slightly. He then spotted Kamala standing around miserably like a stray puppy.
Wanting an excuse to redirect this awkward conversation, Wells called out, “Kamala! You’re finally home.”
The rest of her family then turned their gazes on her. Their faces were all inviting and happy to finally see the missing piece to the family dinner that hadn’t started yet.
Muneeba called to her daughter. “Beta! Don’t just stand around. Come here before the food gets cold.”
Reluctantly, Kamala Khan walked over and took the one empty chair at the end of the old oak table. Once Aamir led the family through a quick prayer (quick for him, anyway), the Khans dug in.
“So sis, how was your first day at your fancy new school?” Aamir asked.
Kamala mimicked one of her bubblier moods and said, “Today was great!”
With that act of deception, the rest of the dinner proceeded without incident. Kamala learned from her mistake at STAR Labs. Around her family, she would be as happy as can be. No more moody spells. She would pretend to be the happy and content girl they wanted. The girl they needed her to be.
It was clear to Kamala that her family was happy with the move. Tyesha got to advance her paralegal career at that new firm she likes. Aamir finally got a job. Ammi even found love again. As much as Kamala hated New York, she won’t be the one to ruin her family’s happiness. She vowed to be the perfect daughter and sister they deserved…
No matter how much it hurt her on the inside.
The second day of school, same verse as the first.
Today, Kamala’s third-period chemistry lab was assigning partners for the rest of the semester. Kamala was dreading this class all day. This was the one class where Kamala would be forced to engage in long-term interactions with people who were likely to judge her for being in “their” space.
The lab instructor was one of those no-nonsense hardasses who barely trusted her students, so she assigned the pairs herself. The instructor called out her chosen pairings from a list, as if she were scheduling personalized executions.
Under her table, Kamala was tapping her foot at super speed out of anxiety. Who knows which snobbish brat she would be stuck with for the next several weeks? Much to the girl’s dismay, her teacher eventually got to her name.
“Kamala Khan,” the old woman began to say. “Your partner for the semester will be Cassandra Cain. Move your butt over to Table 7.”
With a resigned sigh, Kamala picked up her bag and walked over to Table 7. Her partner made it there first. And she…
This Cassandra Cain was very easy on the eyes. That was Kamala’s first thought. The pale-skinned Asian girl wore her black hair in a sleek and clean bob. And her dark eyes complemented her brooding expression almost perfectly.
Kamala shook her head as she took her seat at the empty stool next to Cassandra. It was too early to be fooled by a pretty face. A lot of rich kids can afford to buy one. She can still turn out to be a jerk.
After finishing her list, the instructor had a sudden and loud alert from her phone. Picking it up, she grimaced.
Looking back at her class, the old woman spoke, “Feel free to talk amongst yourselves. I'll be back in a few minutes.”
Once the grouch left the lab, the room lit up with the idle noises of teenage banter. Though initially, Kamala was hesitant to add to the noise. She glanced over to Cassandra, looking blank and unreadable in her seat, before looking away and resolving to mind her own business until the real work started.
Kamala took out her phone and started scrolling down her Pinterest feed. She was dead to the world for a full moment before an unexpected voice took her out of her art-induced trance.
“Your bag. Captain Marvel?”
This sudden noise caused Kamala to close her phone and glance back at Cassandra Cain. Sure enough, the girl, while still looking very unreadable, was now looking at her intently. Cassandra was definitely the one talking to her.
Kamala glanced back at the prominent Captain Marvel patches that she stuck on her school bag. Honestly, she could talk for hours and hours about her favorite superhero. And if all goes right, then maybe Cassandra could be someone worth spending her social battery for. A girl can only hope.
Wanting to put her best foot forward, Kamala smiled and said, “Uh, yeah! She's my favorite superhero. I know she has a lot of haters, but the Avengers would've totally been curbstomped by Thanos without her help! Um… Do you like Captain Marvel?”
Cassandra looked away for a second, seemingly contemplating something. Then, she looked back at Kamala and replied, “I met her once.”
Kamala’s eyes widened, and she smiled from ear to ear. “Shut the frick up! Really?!”
Cassandra nodded. “Charity gala. Gotham. She and some other Avengers made an appearance there.”
“Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap!” Kamala repeated. She was shaking like an excited puppy. “What was she like? Did she tell you anything that didn't make the news? Is she single?!”
The nerd explosion actually got the previously emotionless Cassandra Cain to smile. She even chuckled. “We didn't actually talk for long… But I did eavesdrop on a few of her conversations.”
Kamala let out what can only be described as a nerd squeal. “Tell me everything! Everything! Please!”
Cassandra was more than happy to oblige. But after that, the conversation shifted to other topics. Well, more like Kamala was talking a mile a minute over various nerd stuff that came to mind, mostly trivia and fan theories about her favorite superhero. Cassandra Cain was content to be the supporting soft-spoken conversation partner. It's like the other girl was well-practiced in this role.
By the time Professor Grumpy returned in an even fouler mood, Kamala and Cassandra would flow well into their first lab assignment. The two worked smoothly, more than Kamala expected.
And for the first time since coming to this city, Kamala was really hopeful that she had made a real friend today.