The mammoths seemed to know who Marshall was as they didn't fear him at all, and let him play with them and their children. Both Marshall and Marty seem to have been written into their genes as non-threatening, friendly creatures.
So, after rehabilitating the furry elephants, Marshall flew south to Hollywood. Marty stayed behind, playing with the mammoths.
It was close to home as Dinosia sat just off the coast. But clearly, LA of 1951 wasn't even half as developed as Dinosia. Yet, the city felt familiar to him. He had never been there, yet he could recognise some of the streets. Seeing the Hollywood sign on the mountain felt nostalgic for a time he didn't remember.
"Man, my brain's fucked up. I swear I remember taking a piss in that alley."
Uncaring of all the gazes on him from passersby, he followed his instincts to roam. He was in his usual First Man attire, and in that era, he stood out like a whore in a church. And he was damn curious about the world since he didn't interact with it much.
"Ice cream? You folks take gold?" Marshall walked into a random shop. "Hold the fuck up. Pretty sure that Helvar stuffed some Dinosian paper in my pocket like the generous asshole he pretends to be now."
Marshall stuffed his hand into his pocket, many random things clanking inside. At the same time, he stared at the large paper menu, picking a flavor he wanted. Though perhaps it wasn't the best thing to stroke your hand while shoving it in your pocket.
"Excuse me, sir! You can't do that here!"
"..."
"The fuck are you talking about. I'm gonna pay you good folks. Just let me… grab it first."
"Sir! There are children here!"
Marshall nodded, looked around, and waved his free hand. "I ain't blind."
Getting annoyed, Marshall rummaged through his spacious pocket harder. It actually was pretty spacious, since it was like a portal to a different dimension where he'd thrown random things. It was a pretty convenient way of using the powers gained from the tesseract.
"Uh… almost."
"Call nine-one-one!"
Woosh!
"There it is!" Marshall barked and finally pulled his hand out. In his hand was a thick stack of Dinosian dollars, a currency that was completely backed by physical goods and First Man's existence itself. "How much is the cookie dough flavor? Add some chocolate chips, will you?"
"..."
"That'll be… twenty cents."
Marshall frowned and looked at the stack in his hand. He didn't understand how much that was, or how much it was worth in Dinosia. He just grabbed a single bill from the stack and handed it over.
"Keep the change."
"That's… a lot of change."
"I know. Give me the damn ice cream."
He waited for a while, ignoring all the women hiding their kids from him for some reason. Not caring one bit, as soon as he got the big ice cream cone in hand, he walked out of the shop and flew away.
He heard gasps behind him, the people wondering if he was the real First Man.
Yet, at the same time, he heard some strange voices. These didn't seem to be coming from his surroundings. He couldn't pinpoint them that easily. And they were mental voices, not physical.
Please! Please! Please! God, help me win this.
Fuck, what do I gotta do to take her home?
Licking the ice cream, he intently looked at the city below him. It was already night, and the lights were bright. The cars moved like little insects. However, one of the buildings was shining brighter that day. A lot of cameras were flashing in front of it. A lot of cars were lining up at its entrance.
Curious again, he flew straight down to it. It was a theater of all things, and the words written on its board said 'Academy Awards'.
"Nerds inside?"
Marshall blurted and fully landed on the sidewalk where a large red carpet was set. Both sides of the carpet were crowded with people, many at the front holding cameras. The flashes were nonstop, and once he landed, it turned into a frenzy.
Some men and women dressed in fancy clothes froze in front of him and behind. He wasn't much bothered, more focused on eating the ice cream and looking around to find the nerds. After all, the Academy meant a place of study, didn't it?
"First Man!"
"First Man! Here!"
Marshall looked around as almost everyone started shouting his name. But he ignored them and walked into the building. The security standing there didn't even bother moving; they were like statues with mouths open.
"Don't mind me, folks. Looking for some nerds to take." Marshall passed by some more fancily dressed people. But then he stopped in front of a beautiful, slender woman in a flowing black lace gown. What caught his eye was her blonde hair.
"That's a wig, isn't it?"
"..."
"Natural hair my ass, nothing shines like that. Mine looked dead for a thousand lifetimes," Marshall muttered, shoveling ice cream mid-sentence. "You a nerd too? Damn, so many hot nerds here. What the fuck happened?"
"..."
"First… Man?"
"Odin's ballsack! You sound just as pretty, smooth, and kind of… hot. Luck to you anyway. I hunt older nerds. You look damn young." Marshall shrugged and marched off, deeper into the building until he entered the massive auditorium.
He saw the well-lit stage and a statue on it. He wasn't so dumb and realised it was an award show. So, he walked to the front and grabbed a seat. It was best to see the awards being given so he could pick up the winners and take them to Dinosia. He was always in the market for nerds, after all.
Marshall sprawled on the chair lazily. It wasn't that he was a fool or a rogue. His way of life had made him uncaring of most things. Shame and embarrassment didn't exist for him. Besides, he was too busy ogling the many beautiful nerds walking past him. Many of them smiled at him.
A few men tried to talk to him as well, like that fellow on the stage, Fred Astaire, as the man said. Marshall just grumbled lowly, and that was enough. Nobody disturbed him after that, and nobody sat beside him. Two chairs on each of his sides were left empty.
"Eh… May I have a seat here?"
Just when the lights on the stage intensified, Marshall heard that familiar, smooth female voice. At a glance, it was the same shiny blonde with a mole on the cheek, and a gown with a neck so wide it gave him plenty to imagine.
"Anyone else? Fuck no! You? Take the damn lap if you want," Marshall replied shamelessly.
The woman didn't take his lap, however. She gracefully sat right beside him. Somehow, unlike everyone else, she didn't seem that scared of him. Heck, she even seemed flirty, flashing him her cleavage with little movements. Brushing her shoulder against him as she sat in the theater seat.
"Welcome to…"
And just then, the lights in the hall dimmed, and all focus was on the stage where a man started to blabber. In moments, someone appeared and sang a song with a live orchestra playing.
"Mm… Are you truly His Holiness, the First Man?"
Marshall turned to look at the blonde. Then, he raised his arms and sniffed his own armpits. "I don't smell prehistoric? Could swear Marty's stench passed onto me."
The woman laughed gracefully, "Not at all, your—"
"Fuck that Holiness. Too wordy."
"Then I'll choose First Man. You're the god of the fourth-largest faith in the world… and to me, you are the largest. The moment I saw you standing there outside, something inside me knew. I couldn't walk away without sitting right here, beside the one I dream about and pray to on my knees. Please forgive me if I'm being too forward."
Marshall eyed the woman intently. The way she said that last part, the knees and praying part felt… fucking sensual. Or maybe it was her natural way of speaking. It sounded like an open invitation. Old Marshall would have gotten up and dragged her away with him.
"Easy there, nerdess. I don't bite, just make ladies sore. In any case, when in Satan's sweaty ass is this freakshow ending? Where the shit are the nerds at already?" Marshall asked, already bored with the singers and dancers on the stage.
"Nerds? I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you're looking for here, First Man."
"Isn't this whole circle-jerk supposed to be for egghead academics? You folks handing out awards for inventions and shit?"
"..."
___________________
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