"On Earth, we call friends who share the same stance comrades."
Deathstroke crouched down and embraced the small Nuwali. The two wept together as he choked out, with great difficulty, the meaning of the word "comrade" to the alien.
Perhaps they had never known each other before and shared no biological ties, but once they called each other comrades, they became family.
His performance was so convincing that although Squirrel Girl had no idea what was going on, she started crying too. Two cartoonishly wide streams of tears, like broad noodles, hung beneath her eyes.
Franklin, standing nearby, remained expressionless, his eyes as dead as a fish's.
Whether the other two believed it or not, the simple-hearted Nuwali, as veterans of the cosmos, certainly did. The one Deathstroke held cried as if he had rabies, shaking his head wildly and even convulsing. Though he could barely breathe, he still shouted:
"Comrade!"
"Here!"
"Comrade!"
"Here!"
Every time he called out, Deathstroke answered. Before long, the cries became like a roaring sea and thunderous mountains. More and more Nuwali teleported into the warehouse area, all weeping. The humiliation and fury of the past, the pressure their people had carried for so long, had finally found comrades to share the burden.
It was the emotion of being understood, enough to make them lose control. It proved that in the vast universe, the Nuwali would not be fighting alone.
Another Civilization was also standing up to resist the Beyonders in defense of its rights!
They had suppressed themselves for far too long, and once their emotions were unleashed, they could no longer contain them.
After quite a while, the little supervisor clinging to Deathstroke finally wiped his face and prepared to lead the three to meet the big bosses. But the other Nuwali would