Post by Drake on Aug 11, 2014 11:39:33 GMT -5
A/N: I’d like to credit Jordan for giving me the idea of doing a recap before each issue. I’ll have one from now on. It’s a great idea, man!
Previously in Guardians of the Galaxy…
Peter Quill was arrested after stealing an ancient Spartoi weapon, the Element Gun, for a mysterious Kree employer. While in prison, Peter teamed up with the Terran astronaut Heather Douglas, Rocket Raccoon the cyborg from the Keystone Quadrant, and the tree-man Groot to escape. After breaking out, the outlaws discovered Quill’s employer, a member of the elite Accuser Corps, had destroyed Rocket’s home planet and killed all its inhabitants. Now united, the quartet plan to bring the fight to the Accuser, but not before discovering the secrets behind the Element Gun.
----
14 Years Ago
A red Chevy truck cruised down a dirt road near Roswell, New Mexico, with nowhere and nobody in sight. The driver was a thick Caucasian man built like a wall. His bald head shined gently as the setting sun glinted through the open window next to him. On the passenger’s side sat a petite thirteen-year-old girl whose dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
The bald man sighed quietly before speaking, “You ever gonna talk to me, Heather?”
Heather crossed her arms, pouting, “Don’t know why I should, Arthur.” The girl hostilely emphasized her father’s name.
“Heather, please. I just wanted to take this trip to have some quality father-daughter time. After all that happened with…” Arthur’s expression broke, tears threatening to rise to the surface, “With your mother, I thought…”
“Wrong,” Heather interjected, “Spending a weekend with you in the middle of nowhere is the last thing I’d want to do. I should be with my friends right now, maybe drowning my sorrows by making out with Tommy—“
“I get it,” Arthur said, cringing, “You don’t have to dig the knife in further.”
“Like hell I don’t,” Heather muttered.
“Watch your mouth, young lady!” her father scolded.
“Oh yeah, ‘cause I’ve never heard you cuss,” grumbled Heather, but this time Arthur didn’t respond. He was too busy staring at the sky. Heather frowned.
“Dad? You listenin’? I said ‘oh…’” Heather followed her father’s gaze. Her eyes widened. “Yeah.”
Arthur jerked the truck to the side right before a burning heap of metal came crashing into the ground where they’d been driving just a second earlier. It slid through the worn road for about twenty yards before coming to a stop.
Arthur looked at his teenaged daughter, who was frozen in her seat, “Heather? You ok? I—I’m sorry; I froze. I…”
“D-dad…” Heather stammered, “I’m fine….you?”
“Fine. I’m fine,” Arthur gave his daughter one last look over before throwing the door open and leaping out of his truck. Heather finally managed to turn away to look at her father.
“Dad!” Heather cried out.
“Wait there!” Arthur ran towards the crash.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Language!” Arthur shouted, before saying, “I’m just going to make sure they’re okay.”
’They’re okay...’ Heather shivered. They might not even be human if she’d seen what she thought she saw.
Meanwhile, nearly at the same time Heather contemplated life beyond Earth, Arthur came to the same conclusion. He stood a few feet away from the edge of the crater the ship had created. The vehicle was small, about a car’s size, and shaped like an oval. It was sleek; its metal hull painted green. But it wasn’t any metal Arthur had ever seen. The alloy seemed to shift and turn as if the ship was alive; the vehicle hummed quietly.
Suddenly, all at once, the humming and the shifting surface stopped. Then, with a shiver, the ship opened up at the top, exposing an injured blue-skinned man, who was bleeding crimson blood out of a massive wound on his chest. Arthur forced back a gasp, but his shock didn’t keep him from helping for long. He dived into action, bravely leaping into the ship. He landed athletically next to the mortally wounded alien. Arthur tried not to grin. He still had a bit of that All State ‘receiver in him.
“You need help,” Arthur stated the obvious, but before he could say another word, the blue man held up a hand stained with blood, silencing him.
“Koli ak…” the man frowned, and tapped a small silver device below his ear. “Testing once,” the alien coughed up blood. “That’s better.” He managed a smile.
Arthur briefly reached down to help, but stopped himself, “Don’t talk. I’ve got a first aid…er…can you even understand me?”
The blue alien nodded, “Yes, Terran, but that matters not. Do not try to impede my death. It is inevitable. My wound is too grievous…” Arthur couldn’t argue that point.
“What…what do you need? Is there anything I can do for you?” Arthur wondered.
“Yes,” the blue man reached into a compartment in his ship and retrieved a small red orb patterned with silver wire, “Take this orb, and go to your world government. Tell them to hide it. Tell them you must…it is the only way…” the man coughed again. Arthur reached down and supported his head to keep him from choking on blood and vomit. The alien nodded his thanks.
“You must assemble an army. Keep the orb away from the Mad Titan. Stop him at any cost. I understand that you cannot comprehend what it is I say, but you must heed my words. Hide the orb. I wish I could help you more but…” light began to fade from the man’s eyes. Arthur forced back panic. “…this is…all…the time…”
That was all the alien managed to say. Arthur relaxed, letting the dead extraterrestrial’s head collapse to the bottom of his ship. Everything he’d said, just the fact that the blue man existed…he had been right. Arthur couldn’t comprehend it all.
But he did know he had to act. Arthur took the sphere from the corpse’s hand and stood up. Right then, Heather called out.
“Dad, get away from there!”
Arthur didn’t even have a second to absorb his daughter’s words. He was enveloped in light, and then darkness, the orb still tight in his grasp.
Alone, Heather collapsed to her knees, forced to watch as her father disappeared in a burst of light. High above, a black and gold ship lifted ever higher into the sky.
Milago fluttered to a stop in a neon green cluster of light, as her inhabitants gazed out wide-eyed at the enormous moon in front of them. Or rather, as Heather soon realized, the enormous head. It was broken, cracked, but it was undeniably the robotic head of an enormous being, ripped from its body.
“It’s called Knowhere. That’s right, take it in,” Peter grinned, “It’s the severed head of one of the creator’s of the galaxy—the Celestials. God only knows what could’ve beheaded one of them. In this case, that’s quite literally true.” The ship’s captain quipped.
“We’re going in there…?” Heather muttered.
“Oh yeah,” Peter crossed his arms over his chest, “It’s the peak of criminal culture. Off all official grids, under no laws or restrictions, Knowhere’s the place to go if you’re wanted and looking for information, a safe haven, or just a good time. ‘Course, don’t take that to mean we can do whatever we want whenever we want. While the place may be made up of 90% thieves, thugs, assassins and maniacs, it’s got its own strict laws. You destroy whole planets? You’re safe there. But if you fight anyone in there, destroy any property, anything, you’re out. The Security in there is tight.”
“I think I hearda this place,” Rocket spoke up, “They say the head of security’s a bitch, right?” Peter nodded. Heather giggled.
“What?” Rocket asked.
“Just amused, is all,” Heather said, “Of all things to reach your end of the galaxy, it’s that the head of security is a bitch. I mean, that about defines every warden or sheriff I’ve encountered.”
Rocket frowned, “Earth is weird.”
“C’mon, you can’t tell me that you don’t know the whole hard ass cop stereotype!” Heather exclaimed.
Peter patted her on the shoulder, “The head of security’s a bitch, Heather, not a jerk. I’ve actually heard she’s quite reasonable.”
“What? But—“
“I am Groot.” The giant shook his head, frowning.
“Groot said it,” Rocket interjected, ”Head of security’s a bitch. It’s really simple.”
“I know! I—“
“Why don’t we move on?” Peter implored, “Because we’ve arrived.”
Heather, Rocket and Groot looked forward, and were instantly overwhelmed by the assortment of culture in the severed head. Ships swirled around. Aliens of every color, size, and shape milled around on streets carved through the cracked cranium.
“Welcome to Knowhere,” Milago said, “The melting pot of the galaxy.”
The quartet of outlaws—not exactly an unusual thing in Knowhere—walked through the crowd atop one of the top floors of the floating colony. Peter was wearing his red jacket and helmet again, the Element Gun hidden in a bag strung over his shoulder. As he walked, people stepped out of his way, seemingly afraid of him. Heather waited for half an hour before it finally got to the point she had to speak up and ask why everyone was freaking out around him.
“What’s up with you, Darth Vader?” Heather wondered, “Why are people so scared of you?”
No one answered for a moment. Peter leaned back and spoke up, the Earth reference lost on him, “Oh, you talking to me?”
“Yeah. You’re the one everyone’s peeing their pants around,” Heather nodded around to the scattered crowd to prove her point.
Rocket frowned, “It’s ‘cause of Quill? I thought it was me.”
“Yeah, everyone’s scared of a three-foot furball,” Heather sarcastically teased.
“You’d be surprised, lady,” Rocket retorted, “I ruled the R-Son. Ain’t no thug on that ship that’d mess with me.”
“I am Groot.” his friend agreed.
“Damn right,” Rocket said.
“No, Heather has a point,” Peter admitted, “The mask I wear intimidates people. It’s because of who wore it before me.”
“And who is that exactly?” Heather asked.
“Yondu the Savage.”
“Wait, what?” Rocket exclaimed, stopping in his tracks. The rest of the group slowed down and turned to him. “That’s Yondu’s helmet??”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded, “I took it off his corpse.”
“You did what???” Rocket shouted.
Peter motioned the thought away, “Forget about it. It isn’t a big deal.”
“A big deal?? You killed Yondu the Savage, the fiercest pirate in the galaxy!” Rocket said.
Heather’s jaw dropped, “What?”
“No, I didn’t!” Peter said fiercely, as if he was offended at the statement, “I just…I…let’s go. Now’s not the time to talk about this.”
Rocket sped up his pace to catch up to Peter, “D’ast, you gotta tell us these things, Quill. What if the Redfins come after us? Are there any other psychos we hafta worry about?”
“You don’t have to worry about anything!” Peter stopped suddenly in front of a small shop and pushed the door open, “We’re here. Now shut up—and I mean really shut up—and let me talk.”
“Here? Where’s here?” Rocket grumbled.
“Yeah, you never told us you actually knew someone to talk to about…” Heather paused, before pointing to the bag on Peter’s shoulder and whispering, “that.”
“Mhm, I just led you here with no idea at all what to look for,” Peter grumbled, “Absolutely.”
“I am Groot?”
“No, he’s not being serious, you idiot!” Rocket met his wooden friend’s gaze, “It’s called sarcasm; ever heard of it?”
“Enough!” Peter demanded, motioning the others inside, “Let’s just get this over with!”
Nearby, a furry inhuman man watched the quartet of outlaws enter the shop, before turning away into an alley and activating a small device on his wrist. The watch-like object lit up with a small hologram of a tall blue-skinned bald woman, whose head was laced with robotic parts. She wore a gray armored top and black pants, with two swords tied to her waist.
“What is it?” the woman growled in a cybernetic voice.
The furry alien bowed his head, “My lady Nebula, please tell the Accuser I’ve spotted Quill and his allies. They’ve just landed on Knowhere.”
Nebula grinned wickedly, “I’m surprised, Renu. You came through for once. Good. I will inform Ronan.”
“And my lady?”
“Yes, Renu,” Nebula said impatiently.
“The Destroyer is on Knowhere. If it pleases you, I could contact him and send him after Quill.”
“Very well, but should things get…out of hand with him, it’s on your head.”
Renu nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”
The shop was lined with stones of every color and every shape. Near the back was the owner, a tall fat man with two chunks of dark hair sticking out of his head. His yellowish skin was tinged with flakes of green, and instead of a mouth he had a trunk. Currently, he was leaned over his desk, helping a customer.
Peter leaned back against a shelf of stones, staring intensely at the shopkeeper. The man never seemed to notice. Before long he was finished with the customer, a relatively short Kree woman, leaving just the outlaws and the shopkeeper alone together.
“Stop staring at me and start talking,” the man wiped down his desk with a towel, not even looking up, “You here for my head? That won’t get you anywhere, not on Knowhere.”
“Quid, is that anyway to talk to an old friend?” Peter said, stepping forward and leaning on the man’s desk, much to his dismay. The blonde man tapped the side of his helmet, allowing it to slide down his head.
“Do I know you?” Quid asked, “You got that…helmet, but I don’t recall your face.”
“C’mon, buddy, I know it’s been about a year, but you gotta remember me. Peter Quill?” The outlaw grinned casually.
“I don’t recall a Peter Quill.”
Peter frowned. Rocket chuckled, “Some help he is, Quill.” The blonde kicked his furry ally, causing him to jump.
“You said you recognize the helmet?” Peter pushed.
“’Course I do. Anyone who wasn’t born yesterday knows that helmet,” Quid admitted, “That there’s…his helmet. How the krutack do you have it?”
“How do you think?”
Quid shrugged, “You the merc that did Yondu in?”
“No,” Peter stepped away from the table and sighed, before looking back at the shopkeeper, “You really don’t remember me?”
“Nope.”
“I was the kid! The—the kid…” Peter took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m Yondu’s son.”
“YOU’RE WHO???” Rocket exclaimed.
“I am Groot!”
“I heard him the first time, Groot,” Rocket grunted.
“I am Groot,” the tree-man continued.
“I was just freaking out, is all. I mean,” Rocket pointed to Peter, “He says he’s friggin’ Yondu’s kid! I thought you didn’t know where you came from, Quill!”
“I was adopted,” Peter admitted, “I wasn’t actually…”
“Yeah, I remember you now,” Quid interjected, “The freak kid Yondu picked up on that Kree moon. You always looked a little Spartoi, but you’re so d’ast tall…”
“He’s human actually,” Heather stated, before blushing, “That’s what we think, anyway.”
“Dunno what a hue-mane is,” Quid started, “But any friend of Yondu’s a friend of mine. I’m just glad someone made it outta that…massacre,” the alien shuddered, “Can’t believe that happened here ‘a all places too.”
“Here? As in the Redfins were killed in this shop ‘here??’” Rocket demanded.
“No, down a few floors,” Peter looked down at the floor sullenly, “They were killed here on Knowhere. Milago and I are all that’s left.” Heather put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Peter nodded his thanks, before turning back to Quid. He pulled the bag out from over his shoulder and tossed it onto the table. Quid opened it up and pulled the Element Gun out from inside. He examined it.
“This is an ancient Spartoi taser gun, mark…well, I’d say it’s a first edition,” Quid looked up, “What’s it matter to ya? This thing won’t sell for more than a few credits.”
“It’s supposedly an ancient Spartoi super-weapon. We’ve been chased halfway around the galaxy by some garnag who wants that thing bad, and we wanna know why,” Peter explained.
“Well, I couldn’t tell ya that. It looks like some plain old gun to me,” Quid admitted.
“That’s what I said!” Rocket interrupted.
“But,” the shopkeeper started, “That there orange orb is weird.” Quid pointed to the large glowing orb near the end of the gun, “Most ancient guns didn’t have anything like that in ‘em. If I were ya, I’d go just down a few floors to the Spartoi temple. You’re in luck. It’s the week of this big festival of the Sun God or whatever, and a priest came into town. He might be able to help you.”
“Thanks,” Peter picked up the Element Gun and put it back in the bag, “You’ve been a big help.”
“Anytime, my friend.”
The outlaws left the shop, but not without Rocket speaking up on their way out.
“Why’re we wasting time on this? There ain’t nothing special about that gun. You heard the guy.”
“And I’m beginning to think you didn’t,” Heather said, “Quid mentioned that the orange orb is weird. That could be the key to all this.”
“Suppose it isn’t, though. Suppose we wasted our time doin’ nothing and everyone on Halfworld died for nothing,” Rocket said, “Then what?”
“That won’t—didn’t—happen. The Element Gun is special,” Peter led the group to an alley half a block down, “Now enough with the doubting, Rocket. Shut up and keep your head down.”
“Why?” Rocket asked.
“Because this alley’s a shortcut to the lower floors, but it’s full of cut throats and thieves who’ll do you in if you so much as look at them wrong,” Peter explained.
“What happened to the whole ‘don’t do crime’ thing?” Rocket said.
“Even Knowhere has a dark side,” Peter said.
“I thought the whole thing was bad,” Heather muttered.
“Just follow me and don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Peter ordered. The others nodded reluctantly. Bag hoisted over his shoulder, Peter led them down the alley. At first, nothing changed, but soon enough the alley dropped off to an extensive slope lined with hooded figures and grinning thugs. Heather was amused to realize the sight didn’t scare her. How times had changed.
“Just keep quiet,” Peter said, “Just keep quiet.”
“We aren’t the ones talkin’, Quill,” Rocket stated.
“Everything’s gonna be fine…” Peter continued, “As long as we—“
“RRAAGGGHHHH!”
A diving figure tackled Peter into the ground. Something snapped. Peter realized it was his left arm.
“Son of a—“
“Hey, fragnarg,” Rocket pulled a rifle out from over his shoulder and aimed it at Quill’s green-skinned attacker, “Back off ‘less you wanna learn the hard way you ain’t bullet proof.”
The green beast of a man looked up, his pupil and iris-less white eyes embedding even in Rocket the worst of fears. “Test me,” He growled.
“You’re funeral,” Rocket fired, sending a wave of bullets over the tattooed chest of their assailant. For good measure, Peter shot the man in the chest with his Roguekiller blaster.
The good news? The green assassin had been knocked back by the repeated blows. The bad news? He didn’t have more than a few bruises on his chest. The man was still alive, and nearly unscathed.
“My turn,” the man said, before leaping at Rocket, two wicked sharp knives in his hands. He never reached the raccoon. Groot knocked him into a tent with a fierce swipe of his trunk-like arm. That didn’t even seem to phase the assassin, however.
“I am…” the tree-man gulped as the assassin stood up, expression fierce, “Groot?”
“RYAAGGGG!” The man charged, cutting Groot’s arms off with two slashes. By this point, the crooked thugs and pickpockets had left the alley, running for their lives. Heather nearly wanted to do the same, but she kept her calm and ran over to help Peter up off the ground.
“He’s the Destroyer…” Peter muttered.
“What?” Heather asked, lifting Peter up.
“We’re screwed. I didn’t realize at first, but…he’s Drax the Destroyer. We’ve gotta get out of here.” Heather had never seen Peter look so scared in all the time she’d known him, but somehow she knew running away wasn’t an option. However, she had a plan, and she hoped desperately it would work. She leaned in and whispered into Peter’s ear.
Meanwhile, Rocket and Groot were in a fierce battle royale with the Destroyer, who lived up to his name by ransacking the alley as he tried to kill the two outlaws. They didn’t last long, however, as without arms Groot couldn’t do much of anything, leaving Rocket as Drax’s sole target.
The raccoon was pinned against a wall, unloading his clip onto the Destroyer, “Just die already!”
The maniac menaced forward, knife in hand, “I’m going to enjoy gutting you, rodent.”
“You couldn’t get creepier, could you?” Rocket muttered.
FWOOM!
Drax rocketed away, crashing through rows of tents and makeshift houses. Nearby, Heather stood, mouth agape, with the Element Gun aimed carefully in her hand.
“What the…?” Rocket exclaimed.
“It…it shot air. It’s literally an Element Gun,” Heather whispered.
“Nice shot,” Peter said.
“I am Groot.”
“Groot’s right!” Rocket continued, “What if that thing blew us the krutack up! Why the hell did you fire it?”
“You were about to die, Rocket! I—“
“NO!”
All attention turned to Drax, who rose from the rubble, “It is you who shall die, wench!” The Destroyer lunged. Heather fired again, but the maniac stepped away from the explosive blast of air, dodging it. He tackled Heather into the ground and held his knife tightly to her throat.
“HEATHER!” Peter exclaimed.
But the Terran woman couldn’t move. She couldn’t fire. It wasn’t that she was physically unable. In fact, she could have blasted Drax off of her twice by this point, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do anything but stare in awe at her would-be murderer’s face. She knew that face. All these years, a bunch of freaky tattoos, and a race-change, but he hadn’t changed at all. Heather would recognize him anywhere…
“Dad?”
NEXT TIME: The real introduction of Cosmo! I mean it! And, y’know, Heather-Daddy stuff. But Cosmo!
#5: More Than Meets the Eye Part 5
Knowhere to Go
By Drake
Previously in Guardians of the Galaxy…
Peter Quill was arrested after stealing an ancient Spartoi weapon, the Element Gun, for a mysterious Kree employer. While in prison, Peter teamed up with the Terran astronaut Heather Douglas, Rocket Raccoon the cyborg from the Keystone Quadrant, and the tree-man Groot to escape. After breaking out, the outlaws discovered Quill’s employer, a member of the elite Accuser Corps, had destroyed Rocket’s home planet and killed all its inhabitants. Now united, the quartet plan to bring the fight to the Accuser, but not before discovering the secrets behind the Element Gun.
----
14 Years Ago
A red Chevy truck cruised down a dirt road near Roswell, New Mexico, with nowhere and nobody in sight. The driver was a thick Caucasian man built like a wall. His bald head shined gently as the setting sun glinted through the open window next to him. On the passenger’s side sat a petite thirteen-year-old girl whose dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
The bald man sighed quietly before speaking, “You ever gonna talk to me, Heather?”
Heather crossed her arms, pouting, “Don’t know why I should, Arthur.” The girl hostilely emphasized her father’s name.
“Heather, please. I just wanted to take this trip to have some quality father-daughter time. After all that happened with…” Arthur’s expression broke, tears threatening to rise to the surface, “With your mother, I thought…”
“Wrong,” Heather interjected, “Spending a weekend with you in the middle of nowhere is the last thing I’d want to do. I should be with my friends right now, maybe drowning my sorrows by making out with Tommy—“
“I get it,” Arthur said, cringing, “You don’t have to dig the knife in further.”
“Like hell I don’t,” Heather muttered.
“Watch your mouth, young lady!” her father scolded.
“Oh yeah, ‘cause I’ve never heard you cuss,” grumbled Heather, but this time Arthur didn’t respond. He was too busy staring at the sky. Heather frowned.
“Dad? You listenin’? I said ‘oh…’” Heather followed her father’s gaze. Her eyes widened. “Yeah.”
Arthur jerked the truck to the side right before a burning heap of metal came crashing into the ground where they’d been driving just a second earlier. It slid through the worn road for about twenty yards before coming to a stop.
Arthur looked at his teenaged daughter, who was frozen in her seat, “Heather? You ok? I—I’m sorry; I froze. I…”
“D-dad…” Heather stammered, “I’m fine….you?”
“Fine. I’m fine,” Arthur gave his daughter one last look over before throwing the door open and leaping out of his truck. Heather finally managed to turn away to look at her father.
“Dad!” Heather cried out.
“Wait there!” Arthur ran towards the crash.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Language!” Arthur shouted, before saying, “I’m just going to make sure they’re okay.”
’They’re okay...’ Heather shivered. They might not even be human if she’d seen what she thought she saw.
Meanwhile, nearly at the same time Heather contemplated life beyond Earth, Arthur came to the same conclusion. He stood a few feet away from the edge of the crater the ship had created. The vehicle was small, about a car’s size, and shaped like an oval. It was sleek; its metal hull painted green. But it wasn’t any metal Arthur had ever seen. The alloy seemed to shift and turn as if the ship was alive; the vehicle hummed quietly.
Suddenly, all at once, the humming and the shifting surface stopped. Then, with a shiver, the ship opened up at the top, exposing an injured blue-skinned man, who was bleeding crimson blood out of a massive wound on his chest. Arthur forced back a gasp, but his shock didn’t keep him from helping for long. He dived into action, bravely leaping into the ship. He landed athletically next to the mortally wounded alien. Arthur tried not to grin. He still had a bit of that All State ‘receiver in him.
“You need help,” Arthur stated the obvious, but before he could say another word, the blue man held up a hand stained with blood, silencing him.
“Koli ak…” the man frowned, and tapped a small silver device below his ear. “Testing once,” the alien coughed up blood. “That’s better.” He managed a smile.
Arthur briefly reached down to help, but stopped himself, “Don’t talk. I’ve got a first aid…er…can you even understand me?”
The blue alien nodded, “Yes, Terran, but that matters not. Do not try to impede my death. It is inevitable. My wound is too grievous…” Arthur couldn’t argue that point.
“What…what do you need? Is there anything I can do for you?” Arthur wondered.
“Yes,” the blue man reached into a compartment in his ship and retrieved a small red orb patterned with silver wire, “Take this orb, and go to your world government. Tell them to hide it. Tell them you must…it is the only way…” the man coughed again. Arthur reached down and supported his head to keep him from choking on blood and vomit. The alien nodded his thanks.
“You must assemble an army. Keep the orb away from the Mad Titan. Stop him at any cost. I understand that you cannot comprehend what it is I say, but you must heed my words. Hide the orb. I wish I could help you more but…” light began to fade from the man’s eyes. Arthur forced back panic. “…this is…all…the time…”
That was all the alien managed to say. Arthur relaxed, letting the dead extraterrestrial’s head collapse to the bottom of his ship. Everything he’d said, just the fact that the blue man existed…he had been right. Arthur couldn’t comprehend it all.
But he did know he had to act. Arthur took the sphere from the corpse’s hand and stood up. Right then, Heather called out.
“Dad, get away from there!”
Arthur didn’t even have a second to absorb his daughter’s words. He was enveloped in light, and then darkness, the orb still tight in his grasp.
Alone, Heather collapsed to her knees, forced to watch as her father disappeared in a burst of light. High above, a black and gold ship lifted ever higher into the sky.
---GotG---
Milago fluttered to a stop in a neon green cluster of light, as her inhabitants gazed out wide-eyed at the enormous moon in front of them. Or rather, as Heather soon realized, the enormous head. It was broken, cracked, but it was undeniably the robotic head of an enormous being, ripped from its body.
“It’s called Knowhere. That’s right, take it in,” Peter grinned, “It’s the severed head of one of the creator’s of the galaxy—the Celestials. God only knows what could’ve beheaded one of them. In this case, that’s quite literally true.” The ship’s captain quipped.
“We’re going in there…?” Heather muttered.
“Oh yeah,” Peter crossed his arms over his chest, “It’s the peak of criminal culture. Off all official grids, under no laws or restrictions, Knowhere’s the place to go if you’re wanted and looking for information, a safe haven, or just a good time. ‘Course, don’t take that to mean we can do whatever we want whenever we want. While the place may be made up of 90% thieves, thugs, assassins and maniacs, it’s got its own strict laws. You destroy whole planets? You’re safe there. But if you fight anyone in there, destroy any property, anything, you’re out. The Security in there is tight.”
“I think I hearda this place,” Rocket spoke up, “They say the head of security’s a bitch, right?” Peter nodded. Heather giggled.
“What?” Rocket asked.
“Just amused, is all,” Heather said, “Of all things to reach your end of the galaxy, it’s that the head of security is a bitch. I mean, that about defines every warden or sheriff I’ve encountered.”
Rocket frowned, “Earth is weird.”
“C’mon, you can’t tell me that you don’t know the whole hard ass cop stereotype!” Heather exclaimed.
Peter patted her on the shoulder, “The head of security’s a bitch, Heather, not a jerk. I’ve actually heard she’s quite reasonable.”
“What? But—“
“I am Groot.” The giant shook his head, frowning.
“Groot said it,” Rocket interjected, ”Head of security’s a bitch. It’s really simple.”
“I know! I—“
“Why don’t we move on?” Peter implored, “Because we’ve arrived.”
Heather, Rocket and Groot looked forward, and were instantly overwhelmed by the assortment of culture in the severed head. Ships swirled around. Aliens of every color, size, and shape milled around on streets carved through the cracked cranium.
“Welcome to Knowhere,” Milago said, “The melting pot of the galaxy.”
---GotG---
The quartet of outlaws—not exactly an unusual thing in Knowhere—walked through the crowd atop one of the top floors of the floating colony. Peter was wearing his red jacket and helmet again, the Element Gun hidden in a bag strung over his shoulder. As he walked, people stepped out of his way, seemingly afraid of him. Heather waited for half an hour before it finally got to the point she had to speak up and ask why everyone was freaking out around him.
“What’s up with you, Darth Vader?” Heather wondered, “Why are people so scared of you?”
No one answered for a moment. Peter leaned back and spoke up, the Earth reference lost on him, “Oh, you talking to me?”
“Yeah. You’re the one everyone’s peeing their pants around,” Heather nodded around to the scattered crowd to prove her point.
Rocket frowned, “It’s ‘cause of Quill? I thought it was me.”
“Yeah, everyone’s scared of a three-foot furball,” Heather sarcastically teased.
“You’d be surprised, lady,” Rocket retorted, “I ruled the R-Son. Ain’t no thug on that ship that’d mess with me.”
“I am Groot.” his friend agreed.
“Damn right,” Rocket said.
“No, Heather has a point,” Peter admitted, “The mask I wear intimidates people. It’s because of who wore it before me.”
“And who is that exactly?” Heather asked.
“Yondu the Savage.”
“Wait, what?” Rocket exclaimed, stopping in his tracks. The rest of the group slowed down and turned to him. “That’s Yondu’s helmet??”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded, “I took it off his corpse.”
“You did what???” Rocket shouted.
Peter motioned the thought away, “Forget about it. It isn’t a big deal.”
“A big deal?? You killed Yondu the Savage, the fiercest pirate in the galaxy!” Rocket said.
Heather’s jaw dropped, “What?”
“No, I didn’t!” Peter said fiercely, as if he was offended at the statement, “I just…I…let’s go. Now’s not the time to talk about this.”
Rocket sped up his pace to catch up to Peter, “D’ast, you gotta tell us these things, Quill. What if the Redfins come after us? Are there any other psychos we hafta worry about?”
“You don’t have to worry about anything!” Peter stopped suddenly in front of a small shop and pushed the door open, “We’re here. Now shut up—and I mean really shut up—and let me talk.”
“Here? Where’s here?” Rocket grumbled.
“Yeah, you never told us you actually knew someone to talk to about…” Heather paused, before pointing to the bag on Peter’s shoulder and whispering, “that.”
“Mhm, I just led you here with no idea at all what to look for,” Peter grumbled, “Absolutely.”
“I am Groot?”
“No, he’s not being serious, you idiot!” Rocket met his wooden friend’s gaze, “It’s called sarcasm; ever heard of it?”
“Enough!” Peter demanded, motioning the others inside, “Let’s just get this over with!”
Nearby, a furry inhuman man watched the quartet of outlaws enter the shop, before turning away into an alley and activating a small device on his wrist. The watch-like object lit up with a small hologram of a tall blue-skinned bald woman, whose head was laced with robotic parts. She wore a gray armored top and black pants, with two swords tied to her waist.
“What is it?” the woman growled in a cybernetic voice.
The furry alien bowed his head, “My lady Nebula, please tell the Accuser I’ve spotted Quill and his allies. They’ve just landed on Knowhere.”
Nebula grinned wickedly, “I’m surprised, Renu. You came through for once. Good. I will inform Ronan.”
“And my lady?”
“Yes, Renu,” Nebula said impatiently.
“The Destroyer is on Knowhere. If it pleases you, I could contact him and send him after Quill.”
“Very well, but should things get…out of hand with him, it’s on your head.”
Renu nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”
---GotG---
The shop was lined with stones of every color and every shape. Near the back was the owner, a tall fat man with two chunks of dark hair sticking out of his head. His yellowish skin was tinged with flakes of green, and instead of a mouth he had a trunk. Currently, he was leaned over his desk, helping a customer.
Peter leaned back against a shelf of stones, staring intensely at the shopkeeper. The man never seemed to notice. Before long he was finished with the customer, a relatively short Kree woman, leaving just the outlaws and the shopkeeper alone together.
“Stop staring at me and start talking,” the man wiped down his desk with a towel, not even looking up, “You here for my head? That won’t get you anywhere, not on Knowhere.”
“Quid, is that anyway to talk to an old friend?” Peter said, stepping forward and leaning on the man’s desk, much to his dismay. The blonde man tapped the side of his helmet, allowing it to slide down his head.
“Do I know you?” Quid asked, “You got that…helmet, but I don’t recall your face.”
“C’mon, buddy, I know it’s been about a year, but you gotta remember me. Peter Quill?” The outlaw grinned casually.
“I don’t recall a Peter Quill.”
Peter frowned. Rocket chuckled, “Some help he is, Quill.” The blonde kicked his furry ally, causing him to jump.
“You said you recognize the helmet?” Peter pushed.
“’Course I do. Anyone who wasn’t born yesterday knows that helmet,” Quid admitted, “That there’s…his helmet. How the krutack do you have it?”
“How do you think?”
Quid shrugged, “You the merc that did Yondu in?”
“No,” Peter stepped away from the table and sighed, before looking back at the shopkeeper, “You really don’t remember me?”
“Nope.”
“I was the kid! The—the kid…” Peter took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m Yondu’s son.”
“YOU’RE WHO???” Rocket exclaimed.
“I am Groot!”
“I heard him the first time, Groot,” Rocket grunted.
“I am Groot,” the tree-man continued.
“I was just freaking out, is all. I mean,” Rocket pointed to Peter, “He says he’s friggin’ Yondu’s kid! I thought you didn’t know where you came from, Quill!”
“I was adopted,” Peter admitted, “I wasn’t actually…”
“Yeah, I remember you now,” Quid interjected, “The freak kid Yondu picked up on that Kree moon. You always looked a little Spartoi, but you’re so d’ast tall…”
“He’s human actually,” Heather stated, before blushing, “That’s what we think, anyway.”
“Dunno what a hue-mane is,” Quid started, “But any friend of Yondu’s a friend of mine. I’m just glad someone made it outta that…massacre,” the alien shuddered, “Can’t believe that happened here ‘a all places too.”
“Here? As in the Redfins were killed in this shop ‘here??’” Rocket demanded.
“No, down a few floors,” Peter looked down at the floor sullenly, “They were killed here on Knowhere. Milago and I are all that’s left.” Heather put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Peter nodded his thanks, before turning back to Quid. He pulled the bag out from over his shoulder and tossed it onto the table. Quid opened it up and pulled the Element Gun out from inside. He examined it.
“This is an ancient Spartoi taser gun, mark…well, I’d say it’s a first edition,” Quid looked up, “What’s it matter to ya? This thing won’t sell for more than a few credits.”
“It’s supposedly an ancient Spartoi super-weapon. We’ve been chased halfway around the galaxy by some garnag who wants that thing bad, and we wanna know why,” Peter explained.
“Well, I couldn’t tell ya that. It looks like some plain old gun to me,” Quid admitted.
“That’s what I said!” Rocket interrupted.
“But,” the shopkeeper started, “That there orange orb is weird.” Quid pointed to the large glowing orb near the end of the gun, “Most ancient guns didn’t have anything like that in ‘em. If I were ya, I’d go just down a few floors to the Spartoi temple. You’re in luck. It’s the week of this big festival of the Sun God or whatever, and a priest came into town. He might be able to help you.”
“Thanks,” Peter picked up the Element Gun and put it back in the bag, “You’ve been a big help.”
“Anytime, my friend.”
The outlaws left the shop, but not without Rocket speaking up on their way out.
“Why’re we wasting time on this? There ain’t nothing special about that gun. You heard the guy.”
“And I’m beginning to think you didn’t,” Heather said, “Quid mentioned that the orange orb is weird. That could be the key to all this.”
“Suppose it isn’t, though. Suppose we wasted our time doin’ nothing and everyone on Halfworld died for nothing,” Rocket said, “Then what?”
“That won’t—didn’t—happen. The Element Gun is special,” Peter led the group to an alley half a block down, “Now enough with the doubting, Rocket. Shut up and keep your head down.”
“Why?” Rocket asked.
“Because this alley’s a shortcut to the lower floors, but it’s full of cut throats and thieves who’ll do you in if you so much as look at them wrong,” Peter explained.
“What happened to the whole ‘don’t do crime’ thing?” Rocket said.
“Even Knowhere has a dark side,” Peter said.
“I thought the whole thing was bad,” Heather muttered.
“Just follow me and don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Peter ordered. The others nodded reluctantly. Bag hoisted over his shoulder, Peter led them down the alley. At first, nothing changed, but soon enough the alley dropped off to an extensive slope lined with hooded figures and grinning thugs. Heather was amused to realize the sight didn’t scare her. How times had changed.
“Just keep quiet,” Peter said, “Just keep quiet.”
“We aren’t the ones talkin’, Quill,” Rocket stated.
“Everything’s gonna be fine…” Peter continued, “As long as we—“
“RRAAGGGHHHH!”
A diving figure tackled Peter into the ground. Something snapped. Peter realized it was his left arm.
“Son of a—“
“Hey, fragnarg,” Rocket pulled a rifle out from over his shoulder and aimed it at Quill’s green-skinned attacker, “Back off ‘less you wanna learn the hard way you ain’t bullet proof.”
The green beast of a man looked up, his pupil and iris-less white eyes embedding even in Rocket the worst of fears. “Test me,” He growled.
“You’re funeral,” Rocket fired, sending a wave of bullets over the tattooed chest of their assailant. For good measure, Peter shot the man in the chest with his Roguekiller blaster.
The good news? The green assassin had been knocked back by the repeated blows. The bad news? He didn’t have more than a few bruises on his chest. The man was still alive, and nearly unscathed.
“My turn,” the man said, before leaping at Rocket, two wicked sharp knives in his hands. He never reached the raccoon. Groot knocked him into a tent with a fierce swipe of his trunk-like arm. That didn’t even seem to phase the assassin, however.
“I am…” the tree-man gulped as the assassin stood up, expression fierce, “Groot?”
“RYAAGGGG!” The man charged, cutting Groot’s arms off with two slashes. By this point, the crooked thugs and pickpockets had left the alley, running for their lives. Heather nearly wanted to do the same, but she kept her calm and ran over to help Peter up off the ground.
“He’s the Destroyer…” Peter muttered.
“What?” Heather asked, lifting Peter up.
“We’re screwed. I didn’t realize at first, but…he’s Drax the Destroyer. We’ve gotta get out of here.” Heather had never seen Peter look so scared in all the time she’d known him, but somehow she knew running away wasn’t an option. However, she had a plan, and she hoped desperately it would work. She leaned in and whispered into Peter’s ear.
Meanwhile, Rocket and Groot were in a fierce battle royale with the Destroyer, who lived up to his name by ransacking the alley as he tried to kill the two outlaws. They didn’t last long, however, as without arms Groot couldn’t do much of anything, leaving Rocket as Drax’s sole target.
The raccoon was pinned against a wall, unloading his clip onto the Destroyer, “Just die already!”
The maniac menaced forward, knife in hand, “I’m going to enjoy gutting you, rodent.”
“You couldn’t get creepier, could you?” Rocket muttered.
FWOOM!
Drax rocketed away, crashing through rows of tents and makeshift houses. Nearby, Heather stood, mouth agape, with the Element Gun aimed carefully in her hand.
“What the…?” Rocket exclaimed.
“It…it shot air. It’s literally an Element Gun,” Heather whispered.
“Nice shot,” Peter said.
“I am Groot.”
“Groot’s right!” Rocket continued, “What if that thing blew us the krutack up! Why the hell did you fire it?”
“You were about to die, Rocket! I—“
“NO!”
All attention turned to Drax, who rose from the rubble, “It is you who shall die, wench!” The Destroyer lunged. Heather fired again, but the maniac stepped away from the explosive blast of air, dodging it. He tackled Heather into the ground and held his knife tightly to her throat.
“HEATHER!” Peter exclaimed.
But the Terran woman couldn’t move. She couldn’t fire. It wasn’t that she was physically unable. In fact, she could have blasted Drax off of her twice by this point, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do anything but stare in awe at her would-be murderer’s face. She knew that face. All these years, a bunch of freaky tattoos, and a race-change, but he hadn’t changed at all. Heather would recognize him anywhere…
“Dad?”
NEXT TIME: The real introduction of Cosmo! I mean it! And, y’know, Heather-Daddy stuff. But Cosmo!