stonecrandall Chapter 9 Training Instructor: Holy Lord
Chapter 9 Training Instructor: Holy Lord
The inspection work at the cleaning station lasted all afternoon.
Quill squatted to the side, drinking a Coke he'd somehow gotten his hands on, while observing the "talking mascot" with great interest.
"Seriously," he suddenly said, "what kind of species are you? You're not really the legendary Eastern dragon, are you?"
The Holy Lord paused for a moment: "Didn't you already confirm it? Why do you still need to ask? By the way, my name is Valon."
"I know, Natasha told me before."
Quill waved his hand: "I'm asking, what kind of creature are you? I've seen a lot of strange things from outer space, but a dragon... to be honest, that's quite rare."
Quill looked at the Holy Lord, who had just changed form once, from a five-clawed dragon into a humanoid creature.
The Holy Lord turned around and looked at the Earthling wearing a red leather jacket.
In the sunlight, Quill's face was much clearer than it had been the night before.
In his early thirties, his eyes held a casualness and vigilance that only comes from wandering the universe for too long—two qualities that are not usually found in one person at the same time.
"I was once a human being," the Holy Lord said.
He recalled the days when he possessed Valmont.
"Once?" Quill raised an eyebrow. "And what are you now, a cursed prince?"
Steve cleared his throat from the side: "Mr. Quill, please maintain a professional demeanor."
"Relax, American ass."
Quill said with a grin, "I was just chatting. I've been drifting in space for so long, I've become quite talkative when I meet people from my hometown."
Steve's expression twitched subtly.
The Holy Lord noticed this detail.
"Have you been away from Earth for a long time?" he asked.
Quill shrugged. "It's been over twenty years, I guess. I was taken away by a group of raiders when I was eight, and I've been out on the streets ever since."
"Plunderers?" the Holy Lord repeated the word.
"Interstellar mercenaries, or to put it more politely, bounty hunters."
Quill took a big gulp of cola: "I'm giving it to Yondu, that blue-skinned bastard who raised me. He's been working for me for so many years, and only recently started going solo."
The Holy Lord nodded slowly: "More than twenty years, don't you miss me?"
Quill paused for a moment.
"What do you miss?"
"Home."
The word fell into the air and remained silent for a brief moment.
Quill looked down at the Coke can in his hand, his fingers unconsciously wiping away the water droplets on it: "To be honest, I don't quite remember."
His voice lowered a few decibels: "I only remember my mother... I remember what she looked like when she was sick, everything else is blurry."
The Holy Lord did not ask any further questions. He turned around and continued to examine the wreckage in front of him, but in that instant, he caught something that flashed in Quill's eyes.
It wasn't sadness, nor was it nostalgia; it was a more complex emotion, a sense of bewilderment that comes from a long-term wanderer about the roots they have lost.
This human has a weakness.
The Holy Lord silently made a mental note of this.
As evening approached, the cleanup work at the station was nearing its end.
Steve answered a call, walked aside and whispered a few words, then returned with a serious expression: "S.H.I.E.L.D. has new arrangements."
The Holy Lord raised his head and looked at the blond, big-chested man in front of him.
"There's a problem with the handling of the Chitauri debris," Steve said. "Part of the crash site is in a radiation-contaminated area, which was previously affected by the energy of the Cosmic Cube, and the cleanup work is progressing slowly."
"We need to quickly assess the debris to determine which parts can be recovered and which parts need to be sealed in place."
"What does this have to do with me?" Quill retorted.
"You're a contractor; your job is to recycle reusable materials," Steve explained.
He turned the watch on his wrist; it was an information transmission device used to record the Lord's actions.
Now it is being used as a small projector to project a contract that clearly states that the contractor must not harm the Earth's environment during the process.
"If you come into contact with highly radioactive debris without your knowledge, it could pose a risk to yourself and the planet."
Steve looked at Quill: "So we decided that all participants would need basic training before entering the radiation zone."
Quill frowned: "Training?"
"Regarding the identification and protection against radiation hazards from extraterrestrial materials," Steve turned his gaze to the Holy Lord, "Little Dragon is the most suitable trainer."
The Lord did not respond immediately; he was assessing the possibilities of the situation.
Why choose him? Theoretically, professionals within S.H.I.E.L.D. would be a better choice.
The Holy Lord spoke slowly: "You mean, you want me to teach him how to identify dangerous debris?"
"He's not the only one."
Steve said, "There are still a dozen or so cleanup team members. You are the person on Earth who knows the most about Chitauri technology right now, and you have a special ability to sense energy fluctuations. In addition, Tony recommended you."
Tony Stark.
Why did the Holy Lord recommend himself when he remembered this name?
"I need time to prepare," he said.
"It will start tomorrow morning and last for three days."
Steve had anticipated that the Holy Lord wouldn't agree immediately: "The location is a Stark Industries laboratory; Tony will provide the venue and equipment."
Three days.
The Holy Lord lowered his eyes.
Three days is enough to gain the trust of a human being.
"I agree," he said.
Quill raised his hand: "Didn't anyone ask me if I agreed?"
Steve looked at him.
Quill shrugged under that gaze: "Whatever, I have nothing else to do anyway. Three days it is. It can't hurt to learn something."
The Holy Lord looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips.
This human is indeed very easy to persuade.
The first day of training took place in Stark Industries' laboratories.
The site was larger than the Lord had imagined. A dozen or so members of the cleanup team sat on makeshift seats with various scanning instruments and sample containers in front of them.
Quill sat in the last row, looking utterly bored.
The Holy Lord stood in front of the podium, using a projector to display the anatomical structure and energy core composition of the Chitauri organisms.
During a break in training, Quill came over.
"What you're saying actually sounds plausible," he said.
The Holy Lord glanced at him: "You're not interested?"
"Interesting, yes, but what interests me even more is..." Quill glanced around, lowering his voice, "You really fought against the Chitauri?"
The Holy Lord nodded.
"Is that thing powerful?"
"They are weaker than you think," the Holy Lord said. "Their strength comes from group control; the individual soldiers have limited combat power."
Quill nodded thoughtfully.
"Have you ever seen a Kree?" Quill suddenly asked.
The Holy Lord narrowed his eyes: "No."
"That's a pity," Quill said. "The Kree are really tough guys. If you run into Ronan the Accuser, you'll know what real trouble is."
The Holy Lord did not respond.
He was observing the human's facial expressions, gestures, and eyes as he spoke.
When Quill mentioned "Ronan the Accuser," there was a moment of tension in his eyes, a reaction only someone who has experienced danger would have.
This human has witnessed real threats, yet he has still survived to this day.
"You are a good warrior," the Holy Lord suddenly said.
Quill was taken aback: "Huh?"
"It's not easy to survive in space for more than 20 years."
Quill blinked and smiled, "Are you complimenting me?"
The Lord did not answer, but turned and walked toward the podium.
Quill didn't notice that when the Holy Lord turned around, his gaze swept over his pockets once again.
The pendant is still there.