Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: She-Hulk (Vol. 3), Issue #3 – “He Who Wouldn’t Be King”! In the previous installment, Hellcat gets drunk and infiltrates a warehouse with She-Hulk. The warehouse didn’t house an A.I.M. laboratory as promised, but Hellcat does get her ass kicked. As a token of apology, She-Hulk offers Hellcat a job at her firm. I think this was pretty stupid, but I also think sock puppets are stupid and I’ve been very wrong about these kinds of things in the past.

A man named Kristoff Vernard – son of Victor Von Doom – appears in Walters’ office looking for political asylum. Immediately. So sets up the intrigue of the story arc, but I’d rather stare at my shoelaces.

Oh yeah, and Walters hired a woman named Angie Huang to hang out in the office all day with her monkey and, like, file papers and stuff. I don’t why I bothered mentioning this, it doesn’t seem important to me unless Huang whips out a fucking costume and starts kicking Thanos in the jugular.

We’re about to see what some REAL lawyering looks like! *blasts Law & Order theme at 130 decibels*

She-Hulk (Vol. 3), Issue #3 [June, 2014]
Written by: Charles Soule
“He Who Wouldn’t Be King”

At 26 Federal Plaza in downtown Manhattan, an unruly group of very angry robots descend upon a not-green Jennifer Walters demanding that she releases the son of Doom immediately or she won’t be killed on the spot. So Walters can make herself less green? Why the fuck wouldn’t she want to stay not-green?

Earlier in the Law Offices of Jennifer Walters and that Hellcat Lady, and Maybe Angie Huang, Walters harasses Vernard for information. He wishes to defect from Latveria, as previously very clearly indicated. That’s all. There’s not much else to say. He likes pineapples.

“Now– Chop. Chop,” he says, as if he calls the shots in any country. Walters wants to know why he came to her, of all people. There are at least… two… more competent lawyers in the borough. Vernard says she’s the 15th firm he’s attempted to secure representation from. 15th time’s the charm, I always say!

He wanted someone who wasn’t an average Joe Schmoe lawyer (or Jane Schmane, as the case may be), and he comments that Walters is definitely not average.

“Are you… was that… did you just hit on me?” she asks.

“Eh. Probably,” he answers with bored stoicism.

Walters drags Vernard to the nearby coffee shop for an interview. She tells him that, in order to seek asylum in the USA, he needs to prove to a judge that he can’t return to Latveria. A “well-founded fear of persecution” is needed, you see. Now this guy, a guy who is at least seven feet shorter than Walters, plays up his position and situation among the elites of Europe. He went to only the best schools! He is heir to one of the most powerful thrones! He sprays a lot of Axe Body Spray on his nards! But he is a shadow of his father, who doesn’t really want an heir. Von Doom wants to continue his rule through his puppet son. But he doesn’t want it! Not now! Not tomorrow! Not ever! Not Thursday!

Anyway, he wants a real identity and he feels like he can secure one in the good ol’ U.S. of A. where healthcare costs $45,000 per paycheck and half the country wants a smelly orange fuckface running the show. Walters is convinced that this will be a good case!

But when Vernard says he’s been in the country, per his passport, exactly one year to the day, Walters gets all freaky-outy and drags his ass out of the office tout suite.

Back to Latveria with you, young man! And no dessert!

“You have a one-year window to file an asylum claim,” Walters explains as they haul ass down the mean streets of *checks notes* New York… *drops notes on the floor* …City. “If we don’t get your petition in today, this path is closed to us.”

She tries hailing a cab, but every cab in the city is filled with homeless people eating Taco Bell. Vernard is like “go fuck yourself with this cab business” and motions toward his private limo where a very mustachioed driver invites them both in. His name is Ernst and he’s a Good Boy. So, huzzah and all that. Walters knows a judge to get this all sorted out with time to spare! Hop to it!

Walters and Vernard are both a couple of Chatty Cathys on their respective phones. Walters effusively thanks the judge for accommodating her and her client, and that they should be at the Federal Plaza in ten minutes. Vernard is talking to some harpy about patronizing a ritzy nightclub after he pushes through all this lame asylum business.

…then Walters suddenly notices they’re at the airport. And Ernst isn’t the dashing gentleman he once seemed!

And don’t pick up that mustache off the floor! That is not for you! That is not for anyone!

Vernard is particularly nonchalant about this. “Ernst here is apparently a Doombot, with instructions to take me back to Latveria if I go against my father’s wishes. Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t see this coming.” This has happened many times before. Many, many times. His wet nurse. Most of his pets. His first three girlfriends. It’s really annoying.

The Doombot hits a button and ejects Walters out through the roof. She lands back down and punches the Doombot clean through his metal head before he has a chance to wrest Vernard out of the car. Now that THAT situation has been quickly neutralized, they have to figure out how to get to the courthouse in half an hour. 5pm looms and ain’t no judge sticking around for nobody come 5pm.

Since driving from JFK to Manhattan during rush hour is as impossible as a perpetual fucking machine, Walters decides to grab Vernard and run over to hangar that houses a fantasticar! And what is a fantasticar, you ask? Why, it’s a simple answer!: shut up.

It’s a Fantastic Four thing, sir. You wouldn’t understand. Just know this: it’s fast and we’ll get to the courthouse in a jiffy. Vernard thinks it’s futile; surely his father has more schemes up his sleeves to keep them away from the courthouse! But Walters has a plan…

So she flies her fantasticar into the Twin Towers! Hahahaha! What!

In reality, they end up where the issue began: at 26 Federal Plaza fending off robots that really want Vernard. I still don’t know why Walters isn’t green, but she decides to Hulk out at this point and become the mighty, mighty She-Hulk. For reals. She’s bashing robot heads and yelling at Vernard to run away. Run somewhere. Anywhere. To Latveria, maybe! Just kidding! But seriously, beat it.

A Doombot stops Vernard in his tracks… but it’s not actually Vernard at all! The individual pulls off their hood, revealing the smiling (drunk?) face of (drunk?) Patsy Walker! And she’s here to eat some ass and take some names.

Rock’em Sock’em!

Good thing Hellcat showed up, it was getting pretty hairy in there. But Walters is docking her pay. Hellcat is supposed to be an investigator, not a Doombot kicker puncher beater upper. Stay in your lane, sister.

Now, unfortunately, due to Doombot-related obstacles, Walker is now late for her hearing. She barges in the courtroom with clothes all ripped up. Shoeless like a bum. Not even with the right paperwork. I-589? EOIR-28? ADAM-12? None of these are in the records, you horrible green “attorney”.

Since the judge sucks, she lets Walters continue with the petition even without a scrap of filled-out paperwork. Like a dog, this judge. Walters begins her argument by explaining that Vernard is heir to the Latverian throne and he doesn’t want it. Persecution!

So please grant him asylum immediately before Walters loses her shit.

The judge, and rightly so, wonders one thing: how is ruling a country considered persecution? Check. Your move, Slippery Pete.

“When you do not wish to rule, Your Honor. When you are given no choice. He might as well be condemning me to prison,” Vernard responds, cool as a cucumber in the sun. The judge ponders this and turns to the representative of the government for his input.

“Hey, the guy had to get past a pile of killer robots outside the courthouse – ones sent by his dad — just to get here to make his claim. No objections here. I’m good.”

Asylum granted. That was the most tense 90 seconds of everyone’s lives.

As soon as the gavel goes down, some ASSHOLE crashes through the ceiling and hovers above everyone menacingly. “ENOUGH OF THIS FARCE!” the asshole declares. The asshole is Victor Von Doom, aka Slippery Dan.

Vernard looks immediately defeated. He thanks Walters for trying her best and approaches his father.

“You, child, are a grave disappointment.”

“It’s my super-power, Father.”

Victor Von Doom vows a swift kick in the rump for Walters at a later date, then he whisks his son away from New York City and, presumably, back to his shithole country.

Walters promises to track him down for some reason.

Final Thoughts

You just made the green lady angry, sir. You wouldn’t like her when she’s angry.

She cries and whines and stuff. Drops the floor and kicks and screams. You wouldn’t like that at all. Like a fucking toddler. Drooling and puking everywhere. Shitting her diaper. She-Hulk always plays the ace, they say.