The Crazy Adventures of Kevin

 

 

 

 Read ahead on the Patreon @Patreon.com/heavenlyenel.

 

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Above the warehouse, Kevin paused, reflecting on his recent actions, especially the look on Gwen's face earlier. He disliked that look. He retrieved a small jotter and pen from the inner pocket of his jacket, scribbled something on it, and then descended to meet the Tennysons.

 

Ben, having reverted to his base form, stormed angrily towards Kevin. But Kevin, with a swift sidestep, approached Gwen in a second. Ben turned towards him, grabbing his shoulder.

 

"Listen here, I've put up with you ignoring me for some time now. I understand you might need some adjusting after your deserved stay in the Null Void, but if you're going to work with us, you need to work on your teamwork! Clearly, you haven't been a team player!"

 

Kevin didn't want to be reminded of what he was trying to forget and prepare against, but Ben's last sentence made him reconsider.

 

He was only doing this as a favour to Gwen. Yet, he kept handling things alone. He might not like Ben's attitude or his perspective, finding Ben rude and annoying, but he was right. Kevin wasn't a team player. Perhaps that needed to change.

 

"Forget it, Ben. We have our holoviewer. I think we can find Grandpa ourselves," Gwen said, understanding Ben's frustration of being ignored.

 

Ben spared one last glance at Kevin before deciding to leave with Gwen.

 

"I messed up this time, didn't I?" Kevin sighed in defeat, sweeping his gaze around the warehouse until he saw a pickaxe alien who had recovered faster than the others but pretended to be knocked out when he felt Kevin's gaze on him.

 

Suddenly, the pickaxe alien felt a pull, its body lifting off the ground without consent until it hovered before Kevin.

 

Pretending was useless now as the pickaxe alien raised its head to meet Kevin's gaze.

 

"Tell your boss that I can show mercy sometimes and be lethal when I want to," Kevin said, gesturing to the destroyed areas and unconscious pickaxe aliens around them.

 

"Now, go tell him I don't owe him anything. See that huge pile of Taydenite crystals over there? We are even now." Kevin pointed to Vulkanus's destroyed throne, beside which was a small mountain of crystals. The pickaxe alien couldn't understand why Kevin didn't just take them with him, or if Kevin even understood the value of these crystals.

 

Kevin soon let go of the alien, letting it drop to the floor as it scurried away, leaving the other pickaxe aliens at Kevin's mercy.

 

"It's time to cash in!" Kevin declared, flying out of the building and causing a sonic boom that woke the unconscious pickaxe aliens, prompting them to run in different directions.

 

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Controlling his speed and flying under the aerial detection radar, Kevin landed gently in a secluded spot. He walked towards his destination, a stone's throw away at a normal walking pace.

 

With the information Vulkanus had shared with him, Kevin found himself at a local pawn shop.

 

Passing through the door, a bell chimed, indicating the arrival of a customer.

 

"Welcome," an old man in a red flannel shirt and jeans greeted him.

 

"I hear the stocks have gone up this time of the year," Kevin remarked, inching closer to the counter.

 

"Yes, they have. Now is the best time to buy. What stocks are you interested in buying?" the jolly old man asked as he cleaned a cup made of black gold.

 

"I don't know. What would you recommend?" Kevin asked, his gaze never leaving the old man's eyes.

 

The old man paused for half a second, studying the young man before him.

 

'Is he one of those werewolf hunters?' the old man thought, wondering why someone Kevin's age would be in the business of trading alien tech or materials since Kevin was speaking and answering in the correct codes.

 

"Sorry, members only. I can't just recommend stocks to someone I don't know who might not have bought stocks," the old man replied, scratching his healthy silver beard.

 

"I thought Martin's pawn shop accepts all who are willing to buy and sell. Besides, other pawn shops like to trade vintage stocks," Kevin said, turning to leave.

 

'Damn it. This kid knows his stuff. We can't let any valuable resource go to other factions. Lately, we haven't been getting enough trades ever since aliens started living amongst us and trading with the wrong people. Uncle Sam needs as much help as possible.' A split-second thought ran through Peter's head as he contemplated his next decision.

 The government was also involved in trading alien materials, but for a while, they hadn't been getting any trades since they tended to investigate the traders heavily and sometimes did things that would discourage other traders. Word spread fast, and other factions rose and began trading with others regardless of their background, as long as what they traded was legit.

 

"Follow me, son. You're apparently not new to this," the old man said as an assistant emerged from a staff-only door. With a nod, the assistant took his place at the counter, and Kevin followed the old man.

 

"My name is Peter. We don't normally get people this… young and willing to trade with us since we're an organisation created by the government," Peter said, glancing over his shoulder to observe Kevin's reaction.

 

The staff-only door led to a store, but Kevin could tell there was something big beneath him.

 

Peter stood in the middle of the store and raised his palm until a green light flashed on it, causing the wall beside him to split open, revealing an elevator.

 

"Not chatty, are you?" Peter asked as they both entered the elevator.

 

Kevin didn't respond until the elevator closed.

 

"Don't try anything funny, Peter."

 

Peter was about to press a button on the elevator that would release a colourless and odourless glass that could inhibit one's reasoning and make one open to almost any suggestions. This way, he wouldn't have to send agents to investigate the boy, he could just ask questions and get the answers he needed.

 

But all that was thrown away when Kevin gave him a side glance that could cut through any scheme he plotted.

 

'Who is this kid?'

 

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