Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #4 – “Past Curfew”! In the previous installment, Kamala storms out of mosque, vandalizes the school locker room, gets detention, and gets shot in the stomach with a gun! All in the span of four days! A lot of heavy shit is going down.

That’s it. You’re caught up.

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #4 [July, 2014]
Written by: G. Willow Wilson
“Past Curfew”

I was serious. Bruno’s brother Vick tried to sorta kinda rob the Circle Q with a gun he thought was unloaded. Ms. Marvel tried to save the day, not knowing that Bruno wasn’t actually threatened, and Vick accidentally shot her. That shit happened! It’s gonna be one of those Very Special Episodes.

Let’s see what Issue #4’s splash page has to say about the matter: “Kamala Khan has always felt different. Strict parents, nerdy hobbies, and now… strange shape-shifting powers? But maybe this is good! Maybe Kamala can do great things like saving Bruno from a robbery at the Circle Q posing as the original Ms. Marvel! Except… getting shot isn’t so great.”

Ha! They act like a pie fell on her head. We open to Kamala’s point-of-view from the floor looking up. Bruno’s yelling at her to see if she’s ok while Vick is like “ohmigod i’m so sorry miss for pumping your tummy full of searing hot lead, you were just holding on to me super tight and, like, whoops! heh”. Kamala’s internal monologue is coherent, listening to these fools and trying to understand that, yes, she’s been shot.

Bruno tells Vick to call the police and an ambulance, but Vick is worried about going to prison for 90 years. Kamala also agrees that she should bleed out on the floor instead of getting help! Bruno picks up the phone and tells Vick to scram. “Yeah, hello? I need an ambulance at 357 West Side Avenue. Ms. Marvel just got shot in my store.” Far out, man.

Kamala tries to wheeze out some requests to stop the call, but Bruno isn’t going to let some lady die during his shift so he insists that help is on the way. “Bruno– it’s me–” she pants out, surely breathing her last breaths as the sweet embrace of death caresses her like a fluffy pillow. Of dying. She transforms back into his friend: “No– listen–it’s me. –it’s Kamala.”

Bruno is either surprised or he just jizzed his pants. Likely both.

BRUNO! DON’T YOU REMEMBER WHO I AM? CAN’T YA SEE ME, BRUNO??

They start having a friendly chat like she wasn’t shot in the stomach two minutes ago. She sits up. “I have to hide. The police– they can’t know it’s me.” I mean, you probably know Kamala’s parents pretty well, right Bruno. Abu and Ammi will flip their lids if they find out their only daughter is out solving crimes all of a sudden! “Why can’t you be more like your shiftless brother?” they’ll say. “Aamir invests in bitcoin” they’ll say. “Aamir already has three monkey JPEGs” they’ll say. Plus, government = bad, and they’ll lock her up and run tests on her like a science experiment.

Bruno’s sad because he, HER SECOND-BEST FRIEND IN THE WORLD, didn’t know about any of these new-fangled superpowers of hers. Yeah, great idea, let’s make it about Bruno right now! That’s a good friend. Plus, also, she still needs medical attention. What does she suggest?

Here’s what Kamala suggests: “No! I’m fine!”

You and me, let’s go. We’re digging for treasure!

But that part is actually true, much to both of their surprise. She looks down and sees a bloody bullethole on her shirt and not much else. “I healed! As soon as I went back to my regular self, I healed! This is amazing,” she marvels. Ms. Marvel marvels. The Marvelous Ms. Marvel.

Kamala starts really digging into her pants to try to find the bullet while Bruno sweats and covers his eyes and looks away and continues freaking out and jizzing his underwear again. “TA-DA!” she produces the bullet. The audience claps. Bruno starts putting the puzzle together, but it’s a puzzle that only has about six pieces. He figures out that SHE saved Zoe’s life! SHE was all over the news! What the FUCK, man? That’s nuts! Bad trip, bad trip. Jam a towel in his mouth before he bites his tongue.

But, yeah, Bruno takes this personally because he can’t understand that this all happened three days ago and she’s still trying to process it, let alone tell anyone a thing about it. Hey, numbnuts, it took being SHOT WITH A GUN to corner her into telling you, and only because you happened to be in the room when it happened. Also, she’s still mad at him for calling her parents when she disappeared after the party.

Then he asks why hide about it in the first place. HEY! NUMBNUTS! GOVERNMENT LAB RAT, REMEMBER? HELLO? Also, she couldn’t really control it at the time. There’s that, too! AND FURTHERMORE, now that she saved Zoe as Ms. Marvel in public, everyone’s gonna be expecting the real Ms. Marvel to save their asses. Not some short little Pakistani nerd.

This is where I cringe while Bruno spills what’s on his mind in the moment. “Who cares what people expect? Maybe they expect some perfect blonde, what I need– I mean, what we need is you. You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met. You say what you mean and you kick butt at video games and you’re smart and funny and–” Eep!

“…you can keep saying stuff.”
“Nah, I think I’m done.”

Then they bone right there on the floor! The end!

Nah, they leave that awkwardness hanging for a moment. Police have shown up outside the store, so Kamala starts stressing. “They can’t see me like this!” she gripes. Her shape-shifting goes haywire when she tries to transform back into Ms. Marvel. Apparently, Kamala can’t morph while she’s still healing. Too many rules, man.

Bruno throws her a sleep mask. “Poke eyeholes in it.”

Just in time. The police show up!

Jersey City’s Finest.

Yuck.

“Here. I’m Ms. Marvel,” Kamala smiles, wearing an askew pink sleep mask, presenting her blood-stained shirt. “This supposed to be a prank or something, kid?” asks Officer Fatass. He complains that the kid doesn’t look like Ms. Marvel at all! He motions with his hands like he’s grabbin’ some titties, explaining that the Ms. Marvel he knows is “tall, blonde, with the big…powers.”

“I’ve got big powers!” Kamala jubilates, and she causes herself to grow tall enough to crunch through the ceiling. I’m beginning to think that shit’s her calling card.

The police barely emote on a level above exasperation. “All right. All right. I believe you. But we’re responding to an armed robbery and possible gunshot fatality. So you’d better start explaining, or I’m hauling you kids in for making a false report.”

Or maybe Jeremy Renner was drunk as fuck that night.

Still very tall and smiling triumphantly, she tells the cops that she squeezed the guy too hard using her Big Fist Action and he accidentally pulled the trigger. Bruno lets it slip that Vick didn’t mean to do it, and when asked if he knew the assailant, Bruno pivots. Officer Fatass tells them to expect to hand over security footage in the near future, and in the meantime they’ll all be keeping a close eye on the Circle Q.

Cops are gone. That was close! Someone almost got a big talkin’-to back at home! Kamala admits she recognized Vick’s voice, and Bruno confirms that his brother is up to something weird lately. Ramblin’ something about “the Inventor”. Plus, what the fuck was he doing with a gun? Where did that nerd get a goddamned gun? At the fuckin’…gun… club?? Kamala offers to help Bruno with this problem, but Bruno probably doesn’t want a GIRL to solve his problems for him.

“I’m the one with superpowers. What am I supposed to do with superpowers besides help my friends?” she asks. Fair point. Bruno tells her to go hold press conferences like Tony Stark! Kamala is wise to this emasculation bullshit. He always helps her, now she’s stronger and more powerful than him and he doesn’t like that one bit! Listen, buddy, we’ve all had girlfriends in high school who fell into toxic waste or ate too many radioactive bananas and were suddenly able to blow up entire planets with their Plasma Vision! Don’t let it get to you.

Bruno just doesn’t want Kamala to get hurt on his behalf, but Kamala says she fucked everything up for him in the first place bustin’ through the wall trying to play hero. She feels responsible. She owes him that much, at least. Bruno gives in.

OK, ENOUGH OF ALL OF THAT! TIME TO MAKE A COSTUME!

Ohhh, is this Jeopardy? Where the answer is the question? Let me try: “What separates Batman from everyone else who’s not Batman?”

Kamala upturns her bedroom looking for garments that she could hack up with scissors! “Ammi! Where’s my burkini?” she yells across the house to her mother, who I can only imagine is already frowning pretty hard. “I read a study once that said video gamers have the reflexes of fighter pilots and the bodies of sea slugs,” she excitedly thinks to herself, hyping up her newfound life mission, also quick to point out that her powers at least circumvent the sea slug part.

Suspicious, her mom shows up at her door with a garment bag. When Kamala says it’s for a school project, Ammi asks what the helldamn fuck kind of school project does a teenage girl require a burkini at cunting 10pm? Her words, not mine! “Obviously, I’m gonna go party with my ten atheist boyfriends,” Kamala responds sarcastically. Ammi warns her daughter that all the doors will be locked and she’s setting an alarm for 1am. Grounded is grounded! If she finds out that Kamala snuck out again, Sheikh “Boring Face” Abdullah is going to hear about this!

Great, now she has a time limit. Better hurry up, three hours is nothing. I can’t do shit in three hours. Kamala’s going to be the kingpin of an entire drug ring by then. It’s a good thing that her parents always taught her the importance of defending people who can’t defend themselves, even if it puts them at extreme risk! The plan moves forward!

Bruno directs Kamala to an abandoned house in the southernmost part of Jersey City. Clad like a burkini ninja, she creeps up to the property. Bruno suspected this location based on Vick’s maps app, and instructed Kamala to not do anything stupid. “You promised. Surveillance only.” Hell no, this heroin den is going to be the beginning of her big El Chapo-style enterprise!

A couple of punk ne’er-do-wells are staking out on the porch. Everyone else in the house gets to sleep while these two have to stay up all night playing security guard. Doyle’s orders, they say! Ha! I spit on Doyle! I spit on his orders!

We’ve got Side-Shave and Feather-Hat. Feather-Hat has a theory!

It’s a Spesha Soda kinda night.

Yeah, man, Vick ain’t no good for anyone! And name dropping the Inventor like that is a good way to get yourself DEAD and KILLED, son. Anyway, Side-Shave and Feather-Hat are just minding their own business when they’re suddenly blindsided by Ms. Marvel “doing surveillance” (tossing them onto the lawn with Giant Hand Power). Ms. Marvel’s all tall and stretchy lookin’, commanding a powerful presence! “Sit back to back with your hands together. Pretend we’re on a cop show,” she instructs rather bewilderingly. She asks where to find Vick, they tell her that he’s in the basement but “you don’t want to go in there, trust me”, per Feather-Hat. Sounds like a fuckin’ meth lab to me. Also, Doyle. Fear the Almighty Doyle. Oh, Doyle rules!

Ms. Marvel walks into the house in spite of all the warnings from these two ninnies. The place looks like a wreck. Kinda like my house, actually! Two young kids will do that.

An odd sentry robot shuffles in and tries to zap the Maiselous Ms. Marvel with a laser beam, so that’s weird. She ducks just in time to just lose a few hairs off the top of her head, struggling to keep her cool. Good thing she ain’t no sea slug! She psyches herself up by likening the situation to a video game boss fight and she WHOMPS THAT SUCKER with a stretchy kick and, of course, her patented Giant Fist of Doom.

But then a lot more show up.

Don’t worry, robots can’t harm humans! Asimov’s Laws! You’ll be juuuuust fine.

Ms. Marvel starts panicking trying to crush these screeching fuckers, but they’re relentless, so she gives up and focuses on scrambling her way to the basement. Does she make it? Does she make it?

*intermission*

Yes! And GASP! Vick sits on the floor against the wall with his arms tied to his sides. Above him on the wall, scrawled in bright green chalk, reads “PROPERTY OF THE INVENTOR”. Ms. Marvel presents herself to the hapless little twerp on the floor, declaring that she is here to save him! TRA LA LAAAAA!!

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?” asks the Inventor, who either just showed up or, possibly, was standing there the whole time! He wears a pink tank top that says “IMA BAD GUY”. He has a holster with a futuristic gun. He’s got twiggy muscles. He looks like Butt-Head with a fauxhawk.

Final Thoughts

What is even happening? Where’s this all going? Who cares about the Inventor? What about the fog? The, whatchacallit, Tarragon Bomb! What’s Aamir’s stance on all this? Do you think Bruno is at home jerking his dick right now?

Aren’t you glad I put a lot of effort into these final thoughts?