What Marshall was offering them was their long-held desire. To be free of the invisible shackles that forced them into secrecy.
Out of slightly over a thousand Inhumans, nearly three-quarters voted for Marshall. It was weird, as nobody raised their hand for Marshall initially. But once the first hand came up, the others followed like a wave. Before long, the result was clear.
"Why?!" Medusa shouted.
"Really? You lot live longer than moldy cheese and still didn't learn jack? The French tossed their royals like spoiled meat, and you still went, 'Ooh, shiny crown, let's keep it!' Genius move. Dictatorships and monarchies start like a party, end like food poisoning. Democracy's better, you get to hate fresh idiots every few years. But one bloodline running the show forever? That's not tradition, that's a goddamn disease."
"But you! You have been ruling Dinosia for far longer!" Medusa pointed out.
Marshall howled with laughter. "Me? Ruling? Woman, I don't give a fuck what goes on in my land. I tossed out a handful of rules so they don't stab each other too much, and that's it. The rest? Their damn problem. I've got bigger breasts to play... I mean beasts to slay. All I do is shield Dinosia from the vultures and piss on the ground to mark it mine."
Medusa noticed more heads nodding than she was hoping. Was their rule truly that disliked?
"I'm leaving, your rotten, swollen pride pukes all over this mess. All who crave Dinosia, go home and grab your stuff. I'll give an hour. To those who scoffed then felt a twitch of doubt, you got the time to decide. And those who stay behind... I won't lift a hand, but I damn well won't be burying your carcasses when the hammer of something falls."
In moments, the Inhumans rushed away, looking more excited than they should.
Left behind, Medusa and her companions were shocked, focused, angered, and in doubt. With the Inhuman population reducing more than half, what was the point of their city? And if the Inhumans who left thrived, even more would leave Attilan.
If that was inevitable, then…
Medusa chose to swallow her pride. The man who murdered her husband, she knew, she couldn't defeat him. Many had tried and failed. The history of the world was less about the world and more about the First Man and his deeds, shaping everything.
Against such a man, she couldn't imagine a victory.
"I… too… will go," Medusa declared. "Not for my own sake, but for the safety of my people. The crown no longer matters to me, but if your word fails, I will be there to defend them."
"Sure, be my guest. Do whatever makes you happy." Marshall shrugged, not even looking.
The Inhumans couldn't give a shit about Black Bolt. Medusa had noticed that already. Forcing them would make them hate her more.
In the end, she agreed to move all Inhumans to Dinosia.
And just like that, Dinosia, the already super advanced society by global standards, gained another set of super intelligent nerds and superpowered beings.
Marshall couldn't help but rub his hands in anticipation. How would their babies turn out? Already, some Angels had given birth to humans. Babies came out with wings, sometimes no wings, but they all came out physically strong and mentally superior.
Hah! I feel like a mad scientist.
####
Moon, First Man Point, Base D1-Marty,
Amelia Earhart was the first human and woman to ever fly into space, to land on the moon, return home, and then go back for the second time. She was the first human and woman in the world to spend a week on the moon.
She had so many titles that started with First Human and First Woman that she no longer had a count. A few years had passed since she had that encounter with the First Man. Swear to god, she still remembered that day so vividly. Fucking in that cramped plan was hot.
Since then, they'd been regular sex partners, that was whenever they got time. She was too busy with her new career as an astronaut, flying back and forth between Earth and the Moon. She'd done it three dozen times already, having learned something new each time.
She honestly didn't know what the scientists back on Earth were planning, but she was all for it. They had already set up a habitat on the Moon, mostly self-sufficient. They had reverse-engineered that alien aircraft that the First Man had caught and used it to build all that.
She was certain that Dinosia was now at least five decades ahead of the rest of the world. Their anti-gravity technology was mind-blowing already. Their thruster technology was also insane. Their moon base could house thirty people and use the sunlight as a power source. As far as she knew, a few countries were trying to catch up, mainly Russia, Germany, and America. But they were at least a few decades away. That was for space flight. For anti-gravity and repulsors? She really didn't know. Maybe a century?
This time, she had a very special mission. It was something of a tour, and she was the guide.
"How far humanity has come."
"Earth looks so… beautiful."
Albert Einstein, Nikola Tesla, and many more scientists stood on the moon in their space suits. They looked at the distant Earth and just froze. Their minds were empty, yet their hearts were not.
"All the wars, all the hunger, all the misery, all of it on that small rock," Albert Einstein commented.
"No borders from up here," Tesla added.
"Is this…" Enrico Fermi breathed deeply inside the helmet. "Is that how the First Man sees the world? Just a small rock, no borders, too insignificant for him?"
"Well, I for one am happy to have the First Man around. Knowing there are entire galactic empires out there in space… It's scary when you see nations at war on Earth." Amelia joined the conversation. "First Man is an invisible safety net."
All of them nodded.
####
White House, USA, 1940.
Arthur D. Morgan had done it. He had fucking done the impossible. He had won the election, defeating the two-term President, Franklin D. Roosevelt. It was an impossible task as FDR was extremely popular. And since Germany had started their madness, FDR's victory was certain.
Yet, Arthur didn't accept defeat. Just two months before the elections, he recalibrated his election campaign and strategy. He stopped talking about policies. He stopped talking about the future. He took inspiration from the enemy, the German leader.
"First Man's America!"
That was the new presidential motto he used. The plan was simple. Since the First Man was so loved in America, the easiest way to win the public was to go crazy about the First Man. He, a nobody, a retired fucking soldier from Illinois. He had no political experience. He'd never held office.
But somehow, all the things he shouted resonated with the people. All the crying about the First Man, and how the First Man must be disappointed in FDR, did something. He knew that FDR couldn't scream about the First Man since Congress hated the First Man, and FDR would anger many.
But he had no problems. He had no backers to begin with. He'd fucking sold all his farms and possessions to run for President.
When the election results came in, Arthur D. Morgan fell to his knees, tired, confused, and excited. How powerful was the First Man that by just using his name, he'd won the election? But he was no sissy; he manned up, trimmed his beard, and considered himself to be quite handsome as a man.
Soon enough, he took the office officially.
Sure, he'd received a nomination from the Republican Party since they had nobody good to stand against FDR, but that didn't mean he had the political support. Congress fucking hated him. He had no allies. He was the people's president, not the Congress's.
Thud!
First day in his office, he fell into his executive chair, tired, and threw away his hat angrily. "The fuck are we supposed to do now? I ain't got a clue who to bring to the cabinet. I ain't no politician. What do you say, old man?"
Arthur did have one man he could trust, however. His former commanding officer from the Army. He was just one rank below the old man during those days, and he'd formed something of a brotherly relationship with him. He could trust the old man with his life. And the old man was the one who advised him on how to woo the American public with the First Man. Now, the old man was the Secretary of War.
"Well, I'd say keep your mind on the war. The economy will take care of itself as long as we keep the Allies supplied. Folks like a winner, and as long as we keep winning, they'll stay behind us. Still, I hope you consider signing on to the Allied intelligence agency I'm putting together."
"Dammit, just do it, old man. I'm too thick for that. SSR was it. I'll keep this house of cards from folding. While I'm holdin' it together, you ride out to Dinosia and see if they'll lend a hand. Find the First Man, guilt him into it if you gotta, tell him Hitler idolizes him or whatever'll jab him into helpin'."
The old man sighed. "You don't get it. The First Man isn't like us. I've spent decades trying to figure him out. He could tear down Berlin for the Allies if he felt like it, or just as easily turn around and do the same to London."
"Look, I'm throwin' myself on the line here, ain't no cards left in my hand, Chester. You're the one who thinks straight, you always were. Send someone calm, someone who won't lose their head, and have 'em sit with him. Make sure they tell him straight up about Hitler and his nonsense 'bout idolizing the First Man."
Chester Phillips sighed and nodded.
"I personally can't go since I'm needed here, and to establish the SSR. But I have recruited a remarkable British agent, Margaret Elizabeth Carter. I'll send her to speak with the First Man. Trust me, Arthur, if she can't get to him, nobody can."
"Alright, I'll trust you with that. Now, who should we have as our Secretary of the Navy…"
Their discussion returned to managing the mess Arthur had found himself in. A nobody who became the President just because he said the right words.
No agenda. No policies.
Just chanting First Man.
___________________
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