The Call to Collide - Part One
Location Unknown
Ebony Maw the self-proclaimed herald of the Grand Titan Thanos looked down at the death and destruction that surrounded him. Fires raged unchecked in the distance, and the unmistakable odor of burnt flesh hung heavily in the air. His lips pulled back into some morbid approximation of a smile. He held out his long gangly arms and addressed the poor, pathetic souls gathered before him. Their green skin and wide eyes called to mind the missing daughter of Thanos, but he quickly banished the thought.
“I know this must feel like the end of everything,” he began in a somber tone, ignoring the chorus of sobs and pleas for mercy. “But it is not the end. These are just the necessary pains for the rebirth of your world. Many have been called to make the sacrifice…”
The Chitauri, reptilian cyborg foot soldiers of Thanos, separated the survivors into two groups facing across from one another. One group was noticeably larger than the other. The warriors of this world had put up a valiant fight, and were granted an honorable death on the field of battle. The number of fallen was significant, but not quite enough. The smaller group was swiftly cut down by a barrage of blaster fire, and Ebony Maw turned to those remaining.
“Hear me and rejoice,” Maw continued in an almost jovial manner. “Your fallen shall be remembered as heroes! Their noble passing helps to tip the scales of the universe towards the balance it so desperately requires. In death they have become true children of our savior Thanos!”
None shared in his enthusiastic praise of the mighty Titan, but they would come to understand in time. They would grieve as all worlds visited by the Black Order had, but then they would rebuild. Their reduced population would alleviate the abundance of problems caused by the scarcity of available resources. They would soon thrive, and come to realize that their world had not been destroyed. It had been saved.
“Maw.”The voice emanating from his comm unit pulled Ebony Maw from his reverie, and he quickly reached for the device to reply. It was not wise to keep the Grand Titan waiting after all. Regardless of how highly one was ranked within the Black Order.
“The great work has been completed Master,” he replied.
“This world has been brought to balance like so many others before it.”
“Then return to my side,” Thanos commanded.
“I have received a response from the so-called King of Spartax. He is apparently smarter than I gave him credit for, and has accepted my offer unconditionally. Once the proper preparations have been completed we will make way for our next destination.”***
Spartax - Throne RoomPeter Quill braced himself before pushing open the doors to the throne room. The guards stationed there had made no move to prevent him from doing so. As both the Star-Lord and the Crown Prince of Spartax he was afforded the luxury of entering unannounced. No amount of royal titles, however, could shield him from the repercussions that would follow his next actions. Not that he would let that stop him.
The throne room itself was an impressive display. The walls were decorated with elaborately designed renditions of important cultural and military accomplishments, and portraits of monarchs both past and present. Even the furniture was luxurious though nothing more so than the throne itself. Situated on a raised dais, and built of ornate materials that spoke volumes of Spartax wealth and hubris. King J’Son sat upon the throne, and stared down at the chattering members of the Royal Council.
“You can’t seriously be considering this!” Peter protested as he marched into the center of the room.
A volley of complaints from the assembled councilors were lobbed towards Peter, but he paid them no mind and made no effort to respond to them. He was well aware that his outburst violated nearly every protocol that existed for directly addressing the King of Spartax. It was especially egregious while in the presence of others, but at that moment he couldn’t have cared less. As far as Peter was concerned, the King - his father was proposing a deal with the very personification of evil itself. King J’Son would hear him out whether the monarch or the royal councilors liked it or not.
“Thanos merely asks that I allow his vessel safe passage through our territory,” the King explained. A brief, almost imperceptible twitch on his right cheek was the only indication that he was anything but perfectly calm. “I see no reason to refuse such a simple request.”
“You know precisely what this monster intends to do once he arrives at his destination,” Peter argued.
His own expression was not nearly as restrained. No, he wanted everyone present to clearly see the righteous indignation burning in his eyes. To know that he was openly challenging their king. Protocols and traditions be damned.
“Allowing him passage through our territory would make Spartax just as guilty as slaughtering those people as Thanos!” His lips curled up into a sneer. “All because you’re too much of a coward…”
King J’Son rose quickly from his throne before Peter could even finish the statement. All semblance of calm vanished from his face as he charged towards his only son, and stopped just short of barreling into the younger man. He straightened his posture in an attempt to appear larger in stature than Peter despite the two of them being roughly equal in height.
“I have tolerated much from you over the years!” J’Son roared. “But you will show me the respect I am due, or you will be punished for your insolence!”
In the past, Peter might have been intimidated by such a display. Might have backed down and acquiesced to his father’s demands. It had certainly happened often enough during his youth. Today would not be one of those days. Instead he squared his shoulders, and stared the enraged monarch right in the eyes before offering a simple reply.
“No.”
For perhaps the first time in his life King J’Son was at a loss on what to say next. The response had caught him completely off guard. He was so certain that his show of aggressiveness would put his wayward son back in line. Instead he was met with even more defiance, and for a moment he could do little more than stare at his son in shock.
Peter used the sudden silence as an opportunity to turn and leave. The movement served to snap the king and the royal councilors out of their collective stupor. Their uproar coalesced into indecipherable noise until the king’s voice rose above the rest.
“Where do you think you’re going?!?”
“I’m the Star-Lord,” Peter declared without even bothering to look back. “I took an oath to protect people from madmen like Thanos, and unlike you I actually plan on living up to my responsibilities.”
***
Knowhere - The ArenaThere was no place quite like Knowhere anywhere in the galaxy. Officially it was a mining operation that excavated valuable resources from the severed head of a long dead Celestial, but unofficially it was so much more. Since it was owned and operated by a private consortium it technically was outside the jurisdiction of any legitimate galactic government. That made it the perfect safe haven for all sorts of criminal entrepreneurs.
Despite the grandiose name, however, The Arena was more akin to an oversized tavern than a stadium for sporting events. The large caged fighting ring near the back was certainly the center of attention for most patrons, but there was also a bar area for those more interested in drinking. Unfortunately, the scent of blood, sweat, and various other bodily secretions was practically inescapable even at the far end of the establishment.
Gamora wrinkled her nose as she downed a mug full of amber colored liquid in a single large gulp before wiping her mouth and slamming the mug back onto the counter. It somehow managed to smell even more foul than everything else in the air, but it didn't have much of a kick to it. She could've knocked back several more, and wouldn't have even worked up a good buzz. She considered herself fortunate that the mug had at least been clean. That seemed to be something of a major exception judging by her surroundings.
“I thought I asked for your strongest drink,” she said to the bartender before letting out a decidedly unladylike belch.
“That was the strongest,” the bartender responded in utter disbelief. "I've seen people close to twice your size get knocked flat on their ass trying to guzzle that drink down so quickly."
“Well that’s disappointing,” Gamora lamented before tossing a few credits down, and turning towards action inside the cage. “Almost as disappointing as this match.”
She didn’t even bother stifling a yawn as the fight proceeded to a thoroughly uneventful finish. The crowd was equally unimpressed, and both fighters were ushered from the cage to a hail of boos and a shower of debris. That at least brought an amused grin to her face. She was just about to leave when the announcer called the next fighters to the ring.
“This next match features some fresh blood,” the announcer raised the volume on his mic in an attempt to be heard over the crowd. It seemed to do the trick as their displeasure from the previous bout soon quieted. “Introducing first, the latest bit of premium Citadel merchandise. Hailing from some backwater colony world bordering the ass end of Spartax territory…”
Gamora tuned out the rest of what was said as she focused her attention on the fighter being prodded to enter the cage. He appeared to be a pale skinned human that had long brown hair with streaks of blond running through it. He was surprisingly young, probably no more than twenty galactic standard years old. He had an athletic build, but he was far from the most impressive physical specimen Gamora had ever laid eyes on. Nonetheless, before she even realized she was moving, she found herself standing at ringside.
It was the look in his eyes that had grabbed her attention the most. He had the eyes of someone who had seen far too much death and destruction for his short time alive. The eyes of someone who had dealt it out in turn.
The kind of eyes she always saw staring right back at her whenever she bothered to look in the mirror.
“Found you,” she said with a knowing grin.
***
The H.M.S.S. Starfire - Captain’s Quarters
A lone figure tossed and turned restlessly in bed. Her orange skin soaked with sweat. Her left hand desperately clutching her sheets while her right tried to fend off a seemingly invisible assailant.
“No…please…stop,” Koriand’r of Tamaran murmured in her sleep. “Please…”
Her soft pleas grew in volume and intensity before a bolt of energy suddenly burst forth from her right hand. The ensuing destruction of her nightstand shocked her back to consciousness. Her green eyes shone brilliantly in the darkness of the room as she gasped for air. It took her a few minutes to regain her bearings, and realize that she was safe. As safe as someone in her position could be anyway.
“Captain, is everything all right?” a concerned voice called out from her comm unit.
“Do you require any assistance?”Koriand’r pushed herself up from bed, groaning both from exhaustion and frustration, and activated the comm. “
That will not be necessary,” she insisted, summoning forth the most reassuring voice she could muster at the moment.
“Just a small accident. Everything is fine.”She terminated the transmission without waiting for a response, but froze in place when she caught sight of her haggard expression in the mirror. What little of it she could make out underneath the tangle of her fiery red hair at least.
“Everything is fine,” she repeated to her own reflection.
The H.M.S.S. Starfire was originally a slave vessel that belonged to The Citadel, but Koriand’r had personally led the uprising that wrested control away from its former owners. She was no longer a prisoner on the ship. No longer a slave at the mercy of her master’s cruel whims. She had put an end to that with a great sense of satisfaction. Now she was the captain, and commanded a loyal if sometimes overly concerned crew. Everything really was fine, and maybe if she said it enough times she might even start to actually believe it.
Ultimately whether it was true or not didn’t really matter. Repeating the mantra helped her find her center, and achieve at least a semblance of calm. She was about to make her way back to bed when the voice on the comm unexpectedly returned.
"Captain, we've tracked down the target. Our usual source has confirmed that he’s on Knowhere."Koriand'r banished any lingering thoughts of sleep from her mind, and reached for an outfit to change into. Making herself look presentable in a hurry was going to be a challenge, but she'd manage it somehow.
"I will be on my way to the bridge," she responded.
“Set a course for Knowhere, and get us there at top speed!”***
Knowhere - The ArenaMaston-Dar glared down at his opponent with open disdain while they waited for the bell to signal them to start. The pale skinned whelp had barely reached maturity by any standard, let alone those of the Kree. The organizers of this pitiful excuse of a combat arena had essentially put him up against a child. This fight would be more of an insult to his honor than when he was expelled from the Kree military. Someone would have to answer for this affront after this farce was put to an end.
“This is what the Citadel considers premium merchandise nowadays?” he asked mockingly, hoping to at least provoke some spark of resistance from the boy. Perhaps that would make things at least momentarily interesting. “A kid who doesn’t even stand tall enough to reach my shoulders? Well I have to say that their standards have certainly fallen. I was at least hoping for a challenge.”
The only response was a silent stare as the young man regarded the larger blue warrior without even a hint of interest. It was Maston-Dar who instead found his own ire raised by such a casual disregard from what he viewed to be an unworthy opponent. For a moment he had considered giving the runt something of a sporting chance. Maybe put on a little show for the audience before finishing things, but that was no longer the case.
The bell rang. The crowd roared at the fighters; demanding the blood and carnage they had been denied by the previous bout.
Maston-Dar surged forward, and begrudgingly had to give the youngster credit for assuming a convincing looking fighting stance. The Kree threw a swift combination of punches that were just as swiftly dodged or blocked aside. He feigned another punch, and then tried to grapple only to grab air as his opponent deftly slipped away.
“Looks like I misjudged,” Maston-Dar admitted. “You know how to fight a little bit after all. Maybe this will last long enough for me to get in a good workout."
A cruel grin crept onto his face even as his attacks continued to miss. "Just like the Citadel surely enjoyed working up a different kind of sweat while they were breaking in the women they dragged from your miserable little…”
A loud crack reverberated through the ring, and it wasn’t until Maston-Dar felt his leg buckle that he realized he had been struck. His right knee bent at a sickeningly awkward angle. A jagged piece of bone protruding from the skin sent a steady flow of blood down to his foot. He didn’t even have a chance to register any pain before he felt his head being pulled down, and his nose being caved in by a powerful blow from the young man’s own knee.
Then there was only darkness.
“You talk too much.” Andros of KO-35 muttered before walking back to his side of the ring.
The crowd was stunned into absolute silence as the Kree warrior lay in a broken heap face down on the mat. With the exception of one woman who whooped and hollered excitedly as she collected a rather hefty sum of credits for the last minute bet she had placed on the fight.
***
SanctuaryEbony Maw allowed himself a moment to gaze in admiration as his shuttle approached Sanctuary. The flagship of the Black Order was a marvel to behold. Unmatched in both size and power just like Thanos himself. It dwarfed even the largest known warships in the galaxy, and had enough firepower at its disposal to devastate any fleet foolish enough to oppose it. Sanctuary could also function as an orbital base above worlds that had been granted the rare honor of being saved by Thanos personally. Sadly, most would never understand or appreciate the sheer privilege of seeing the Grand Titan carry out his great work.
A familiar hulking figure greeted Ebony Maw as he stepped foot onto Sanctuary. Cull Obsidian stood as the tallest member of the Black Order, and towered over Maw. Prominent ridges on his head, razor sharp fangs and claws, and scales tough as any armor gave Cull Obsidian the appearance of a true apex predator.
“Beat you back here again,” Cull Obsidian boasted.
“Well it usually takes less time to smash something to pieces with a hammer than it does to chisel an exquisite work of art,” Maw countered.
The brute tilted his head to the side like a confused animal, which caused Maw to sigh.
“What does art have to…”
“Nevermind,” Maw interrupted with a dismissive wave of the hand. “We would be here all day if I had to explain it in a way you would actually understand, and Lord Thanos was quite clear with his instructions. We are to prepare for our next destination immediately.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cull nodded as both men turned to leave the docking bay. “I just hope this place puts up a good fight. Feels like I haven’t had a decent brawl in ages.”
“Then you may end up disappointed. The people of Rann are renowned for their scientific achievements. Not their battlefield prowess.”
To Be Continued…