The American Civil War wasn't supposed to be that violent. But when Marshall imposed heavy taxation on the American Government, forcing it to hand over a big chunk of their yearly budget, the Southern States chose to leave rather than stay.
Because the federal government had to give away money to hold onto America as it was, the Southern States didn't receive much financial grants. The tax burden increased. The infrastructure boom that was supposed to happen didn't.
So, the Southern States vehemently opposed the abolition of slavery because that would devastate their farming economy.
There was no discussion. There was no hope for mediation. The war began right away. And in the middle of it all was Abraham Lincoln, and right before him was the man who fueled the Civil War, the First Man.
"I-Is there anything you'd like, Sir?" Abraham Lincoln asked respectfully.
"Like? Oh sure, I'll take a spicy goddess to tap, but I've got one at home. Dammit, Hela should stop taking this little rascal to her room. I need some action." Marshall babbled and looked towards the sky. "Anyway, I heard you've got some war going on? Figures. I told those idiots when I doodled on that declaration."
Abraham looked at him. "The declaration? Do you mean the Declaration of Independence? Sir, I have read it. I did not find your name there."
"Wow, bullshit alert! My brain still works, thank you very much. I wrote in it that they should enslave everybody equally or nobody at all, instead of making it a creepy racial hobby. Just the way I used to run my dino farm."
"..."
Abraham's jaw tightened. He could feel it from Marshall's speech. The man really didn't consider humans more than insects. Humans were the same as animals. That level of apathy scared him a little, because there was no way to bargain with a man like that.
"I… I don't know, Sir. But the official declaration we have framed does not carry your mark."
"Really? Damn, those clowns probably flipped the script. Well, they're all dead now, so who cares? In any case, good luck with the whole war thing, and make sure the tax fairy doesn't skip my mailbox." Marshall peeled himself lazily off the recliner beach chair as he'd already finished five boxes of beer.
"I'm off to my Mammoth farm. Ah, you remember where that is, right? It's my land. If someone sneaks in, I'll swing by and spank you. Hard."
"..."
"Marty! Helvar! Move your asses!"
A gigantic raft made of uneven wood appeared beside them. They jumped on it and just… flew away.
####
The Mammoth Reserve,
Marshall flew over the beautiful land of the future State of Montana. He owned almost half of it by right of the First Man. The lush greenery, the mountains, the fields, and the streams. He really loved it. Dinosia didn't have such a landscape, sadly.
And that was also why this was the best place for the mammoths to grow. They numbered many by now and had become extremely docile because of the lack of predators. After thousands of years there, they had started to produce fur much thicker than in the past as well.
It was also why Marshall was so protective of them. They were the prime targets for exotic materials. Everything could be used; their fur, their tusks, their nails, their hearts, their meat. As for Marshall, he only ate them occasionally. To him, they were like old pets he was too fond of. An ancient species of animals that reminded him of the old times. A land of nostalgia.
"I fucking warned them!" Marshall fumed when he saw smoke in the distance. No, there were many trails of smoke rising, as if it wasn't just one camp but an entire damn settlement.
Wooosh!
He sped up and flew above the smoke with the intention of just flattening the entire settlement with telekinesis, or maybe raining thunder over them.
"The fuck's this?" Marshall was left speechless.
It looked like a proper town, not just a settlement. Buildings were made of wood, entire streets, alleys, and a larger building looking like a town hall. And the most confusing part, there were massive statues of him at every corner, each door was carved with the symbol of Dionism, and there were large painted posters of him and Marty.
The people numbered a thousand at least, most of them dark skinned, but some had brown skin.
Moreover, the people seemed to have domesticated the Mammoths. And instead of killing the giant pups, they were combing their fur, polishing their tusks, and feeding the little calves.
"What in Marty's giant ass is going on here?!"
"..."
Marty lazily rolled his eyes to the side.
"Whoa! Dad, furry elephants!"
"Those ain't elephants, kid. Those are Mammoths. Tasty as hell, but packed with enough fat to grease a tank. Back then, Marty and I got up to twice our weights." Marshall murmured and focused on what the people were doing. "It's them folks you gotta worry, boy. Hela must have told you to never trust humans. Especially when they act too sweet."
"Wruff?"
"Oh, really? They're saints now? Why, because they stuck your ugly mug on a poster?" Marshall looked at the big T-Rex. "That's called kissing your ass. Once they've got your trust, they'll slit your throat while you nap, turn your skin into a couch, and snack on your fat bits."
Marty frowned.
"What do we do then?" Helvar asked.
"Normally, I blast their sorry asses into a million tiny pieces. But… whatever, I'll swing by first. They're useful little idiots. I'll peek inside their fucked up brains."
"Grawr!"
"As if you ain't as fucked up as me, Marty." Marshall blurted and lowered the raft. He wasn't gentle with it and landed right in the middle of the town, on top of his own statue. "Move your lazy asses!"
He was loud with his landing. Marty was too recognizable; the people knew right away who had arrived.
"First Man!"
"God!"
"Mercy!"
The men, women, and even the children, all those nearby, fell to their knees. Hands clasped as they started to pray.
"Oh, Supreme First Man!"
"Mercy!"
More and more people arrived and knelt.
"Waaaaa~"
Babies cried. Their mothers frantically tried to hush them. One of them even tried to palm her own baby's face.
"Fucking relax, woman! Lad's gonna kick the bucket!" Marshall yelled at the crazy woman. "And who's your damn leader?"
"I am, your supreme holiness, First Man."
A dark skinned man stood up. He looked rather smart with a fine black suit on, his hair cut very short, his face mature, and his eyes kind with a story to tell.
"I'm William Still, First Man. I am a conductor of the underground railroad. I help folk escape the chains of the South. I swear, we mean no harm to the creatures of this land. Not one of them have we touched. We seek only safe ground, beyond the reach of the United States Government. Every soul here is either a slave or a hunted native—I pray you, let us remain here awhile."
Marshall bore into the man's head and read his thoughts. What he read was simple. Fear, desire to be accepted, anxiety, and memories of the work that the man had done. It seemed like he really had come from the South.
But again, Marshall didn't give a fuck. "Why should I? Abe's fighting for you folks, ain't he? Just join him and win the damn war and get your freedom."
Willian Still shook his head. "They don't want to, First Man. T-They… The men and women here were dragged into the Southern Confederate army. They were told they'd be free if they won. We asked the Southern representatives to make a law to keep their promise. But they… they lied. We knew it. We here… we don't want to risk our lives for somethin' that oughta be as plain as breathin', freedom and the right to live with dignity."
Marshall still rubbed his beard. "And? My ride-or-die squad is Dinosia. I molded those sexy little geniuses for millennia. What about you? You? You're barely toilet-paper literate."
"..."
That level of disrespect was unimaginable. But when standing before a god, they just took it.
"Dear God, please, grant us a chance. We ain't blind to learning, though life handed us sickles, not books. We'll never harm the creatures dwelling here. Just… let us remain here for some time."
"And how long is that some time? Before I blink, you'll have skyscrapers and a Starbucks. Wait, what's Starbucks again? No, nope, screw that noise."
"Please."
Thud!
William Still fell to his knees again.
"Dad, aren't we the bad guys?"
"..."
With a frown, Marshall looked down at his son on his side. Those young eyes were full of judgment.
"Marty." Marshall looked back at the T-Rex. "Am I the bad guy?"
"Growl Rwaaaa."
"Exactly! I'm the First Man. That means I don't get to be the bad guy, or the dumbass wrong guy. Helvar's just a fetus in cosmic years, all hugs and juice boxes. Give him a few million years, then maybe he grows fangs." Marshall dismissed his son's words. But still, he didn't want to seem like an asshole. That would give Hela too much sway over the kid.
"Fine. I'll ship in some nerds from Dinosia. If you clowns survive their pop quizzes, congrats, squat away. But if even one of you snuffs a Mammoth? I'll wipe you out. End credits. No sequel."
"Thank you!" William cried.
Marshall shrugged and looked around at the large group. Soon, his eyes fell on a native woman, looking to be in her twenties, beautiful with long black hair, with an hourglass frame and chest so perky, it caught his eye.
"Since you folks wanna be second Dinosia, might as well adopt the customs." Marshall declared and walked over to the woman. "Hot! Are you taken?"
"Ruffffff~" Marty exhaled a loud, annoyed breath from a distance.
"Dad, what did Uncle Marty say?"
However, Marshall didn't reply. He just glared at the T-Rex. After all, being called a horny, sex-crazed bastard by the guy who tried to fuck a literal house in Egypt didn't make sense.
And yes, Marshall was never going to let him live it down.
"I… I'm a window, G-God."
"Oh?" Marshall turned back to the beautiful woman. "Congratulations, you just got selected for the lucky draw to live in Dinosia as my paramour."
"..."
"Grawwr~"
"That's it, Marty! We're throwing hands, you pea-brained house fucking greenshit!"
___________________
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