San Francisco December 1967: Soul of a Qrii warrior, body of a rocket scientist, Dr.MONICA RAMBEAU, adrift in the bay area. The body fights the soul: The remains of MONICA RAMBEAU Constantly straining to regain its original essence, held in a nega-band inside hunters point naval bas, presided over my predatory mineral intelligence general zo.

 I am Pluskommanander geheneris halson marh vehl, and I am in the wrong place. On my Uni-band I can see MONICA RAMBEAU Rambeau soul dying. It’s dember.what comes after the summer of love? Will she survive the winter of hate? Zo forces me to twst myself against war devices he releases in the way area, his private proving range he tells me that when the sixties end, he will let me become a ghost of space once more, no longer bound here by the nega-band. I do not belive him. All I have is a lair’s promise and my marvel-gun against hell on earth and certain knowledge that my entrapment in this ody is killing a good woman’s soul.

He makes the people into bombs for his own amusement. Who would do that? What living thing would make a weapon out of another. The qrll believe that earth is the playground of what Americans would call satan, and so we only allow our dead to monitor the world from space. All I have left is the Qrill weapon welded to my soul when I attained the rank of Pluskommander: My Marvel Gun, it fires joy from a better universe—pure beams of transformative epiphany. But lately the gun cries at night, and is often cold and wet to the touch. They call me Captain Marvel here in hell: and I have drained the joy from a better universe to try and save a single world from itself.