Post by Drake on Dec 21, 2014 21:12:12 GMT -5
#8: More Than Meets the Eye Finale
Our Time Is Now
By Drake
Previously in Guardians of the Galaxy…
Raid on Knowhere Penitentiary! As Ronan’s new team of Annihilators invaded the prison, the Guardians fell one by one. Groot was blown to smithereens by the mysterious sniper Blackshot, Heather’s neck was broken by Drax (her supposed brainwashed father), and Rocket was attacked by a mysterious young woman who had appeared after the gem inside the Element Gun was activated. Meanwhile, on a mission to rescue Groot’s remains so the tree-man could regenerate, Peter Quill ended up falling out of the building, plummeting hundreds of stories to the ground…
----
Peter Quill didn’t believe in the afterlife. The young man had grown up seeing the worst the galaxy had to offer, so it was all too easy for him to toss aside any ideas of a greater being with positive intentions for every person ever, let alone a being that could—and would—unite everyone in a perfect dimension postmortem. Even still, Peter had certainly hit the ground after falling for nearly five minutes and he was still feeling and thinking. The touch of something on his back was proof enough. Somehow the young man was still alive…or unalive, or whatever you call the state of being in the afterlife.
In fact, besides the bruise on his chest, Peter felt great. The afterlife sure felt like a nice, sinking bed. It sure looked a lot like…well, the sky was like Knowhere’s: an enclosed ceiling alight with golden orbs. Actually, the more Peter focused, the more he realized the ceiling appeared to be Knowhere’s ceiling, which meant God or gods or whatever was in charge of the afterlife had a cruel sense of humor, or he was still alive.
Peter bit his lip. Ouch. Yeah, definitely still alive, which begged the question: what had caught his fall?
A spotlight focused on Peter, causing him to shield his eyes behind his arm. He didn’t really have time to let his vision clear, however, as whoever had shined the spotlight on him was falling straight down towards him…
Peter rolled to the side, narrowly escaping the edge of Gamora’s blade. She had highjacked a Knowhere Security aerobike, and now the vehicle was plummeting to the ground, on track to hit…civilians! Cheering civilians?!
Peter jumped over Gamora’s next strike as the woman attempted to cut out his legs from under him. The thief then wasted no time leaping from wherever he stood towards the aerobike. This was going to be close…
And he made it! The crowd cheered louder. Why the hell weren’t they running?? Suddenly, it all made sense to Peter. High above Gamora and the crowd, on the aerobike, Peter could now see just what he’d fallen onto.
It was a float. Knowhere was hosting a parade. Quid had mentioned something about the festival of the Spartoi Sun God, which meant the people below assumed Peter and Gamora were just an act. This couldn’t end well.
“Come down here and fight me, coward!” Gamora roared.
“I don’t know; I’m liking the view up here,” Peter retorted.
“I’ll kill every man, woman and child here if you don’t face me like a true-born warrior!”
“Then again, you do drive a hard bargain…” Peter muttered. He couldn’t just get off the bike and face Gamora. The assassin would chop him up like he was part of a salad. He had to think of a way to fight her, but do it on his terms.
Peter smirked. At least he had an idea to try.
Without another word, Peter leaned forward, flying straight down towards Gamora.
----
“Die, Rocket Raccon!”
<OFF!>
Rocket’s assailant, someone he’d apparently summoned with that freaky orange orb, let go of him and sat back. It was clear she was trying to fight Cosmo’s psychic commands, her teeth gritting and hands clenched into fists.
Rocket massaged his throat but wasted no time getting to the point, “Listen, lady, I don’t know who you are, where you came from or why you know my name, but it’s not cool to go around attacking people.”
“Don’t play games with me, Raccoon! I—“ The woman frowned. “You look younger. What happened to your eye?”
Rocket immediately reached up to his face, checking it over to make sure everything was where it should be. “1, 2….yeah, everything’s there.”
<Friend Rocket, is clear lady is—how you say—wacko.> Cosmo projected.
“I’m not crazy. I…” The woman relaxed, “Something’s wrong here. What year is it?”
“Which calendar you talking about? It’s 7309 in the Skrull Lunar Calendar. 2014 in that weird Sol system. For the Chitauri it’s something like—“
“The New Kree dating system, you dolt! Can’t you tell I am Kree?”
“You never know with Skrulls,” Rocket grumbled, “The year’s 727 Post Guerre.”
“727??” The woman gasped, “It cannot be.”
“I’m as sure of that as I am that you’re crazier than a Loony,” Rocket muttered.
“Cosmo…Rocket,” The woman said his name with the most venom she could muster, “I am Phyla-Vell—you may call me Quasar—and I am from ten years into the future.”
Rocket looked at Cosmo, “Yeah, definitely cray-cray.”
“You must believe me. There—there could have been a crack in the timestream, The Supreme Intelligence’s tachyon portal could have malfunctioned or—or potentially the Time Stone could have been activated, and—“
“Wait,” Rocket’s ears perked up, “Time Stone? Like, say, a round glowing orange piece ‘a junk like that?” The raccoon pointed to the gem just a few feet behind the mysterious woman. Cosmo shrugged, letting his psychic control of the woman go, allowing her to turn around.
“Yes, that…” Quasar’s eyes darkened, and her focus shifted from the Time Stone to the broken figure of Heather Douglas. “Oh no…”
The woman leapt off the ground towards the body. Rocket ran after her, yelling, “Whoa, hold on! You can’t—“
It was too late. Quasar was already at Heather’s side, and, much to Rocket’s relief, was cradling the body, crying.
“How…how is she dead? She shouldn’t have…not for so long…” Quasar, crying, looked up at Rocket, daggers for eyes, “You…you killed her already! SO SOON!”
“Killed her? Where the hell are you getting that from--“
“No!” Quasar scolded herself, gripping Heather tightly, “No, it’s too soon. You haven’t changed yet. But…but…” The supposed time traveler looked to the stone that had brought her there. “We have the Time Stone. We can save her!”
“Wouldn’t recommend touching that. On an unpredictability scale from 1 to 10 it’s a fragging hundred and—you touched it,” Rocket resisted the urge to run, afraid of the seemingly crazy woman with the crazier weapon.
Quasar lifted the Time Stone up, orange energy burning through her body. Her body caught fire, glowing a brighter golden than ever before. Rocket skulked back. This was it. This was how he would die.
----
“What in Paryx’s name are you--?” Gamora’s eyes widened as she realized Peter wasn’t slowing down. With barely a second to move, both combatants leapt away, Peter off the aerobike and Gamora just a few feet from the bike’s point of impact. The float exploded, air bursting out. Both Peter and Gamora found themselves falling helplessly to the ground.
“If I just had my d’ast rocket boots,” Peter grumbled, reaching out and trying to grab a rope holding down another float. He succeeded, swinging away and into a crowd of people. The man couldn’t help but grin wolfishly as the civilians took pictures of him. He’d totally pulled that off, like—like a fragging hero!
“Is he supposed to be the Star Lord?”
“Looks too ragged.”
“…Taking this whole ‘live act’ thing way too seriously this year.”
“QUILL!”
Peter gulped. It seemed Gamora had managed to survive the fall as well. Luckily for him, she’d lost her sword in the fall. Even still, the crowd could ascertain a threat when they saw one, scattering and allowing a gap for the two combatants.
“Get out of here! Run!” Peter was done playing hero for the cameras. Now he needed to actually act like one.
Civilians looked at each other sheepishly. They couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Gamora made it a little more clear, charging Peter and tackling him to the ground. She never got a chance to seriously hurt him, as Peter flipped her over and took control.
“Usually when I’m in this position it’s fun!” Peter punched Gamora, who was clawing wildly at his throat, “Although, I can’t say I don’t enjoy hitting you!”
“Frag! And what’s with you? Clawing me like an animal??” Peter grumbled, hitting the assassin again.
“A distraction,” Gamora growled out. Only too late did Peter realize what she meant and looked back, coming face to face with Blackshot. The bald murderer had a rifle aimed casually at Peter’s head.
“Try surviving this one,” Blackshot said.
“I could say the same to you!”
Blackshot ended up on the wrong side of a high velocity wind blast, courtesy of Rocket Raccoon and the Element Gun. Even more surprising to the all-too-relieved Peter Quill was who followed him: Cosmo, the traitorous psychic dog, a white-haired woman—Phyla Vell— who appeared to be carrying the group in a golden force field, and Heather Douglas, who was incredibly unscathed, moreso even than when he’d last seen her.
“No! The Time Stone!” Gamora shouted, noticing the glowing orb hidden in a sack in Heather’s hands. The assassin kicked Peter off of him, and flipped up. She leapt for the Stone, but instead got knocked back by a blast of golden light. Phyla Vell dusted off her glowing gauntlets cockily.
“That’s for eight years of pent up anger, bitch.” Phyla quipped. The crowd around them clapped and cheered.
“Rocket, Heather, you—you’re alive!” Peter exclaimed, hopping off the ground to meet them.
“Mhm. You save Groot?” Rocket got straight to what was on his mind. Peter immediately reached into his jacket pocket, felt around, and looked up, grim-faced.
“Oh no…”
Rocket’s expression sunk. Peter’s frown turned upside down. He lifted out a pile of sticks, one of which was trembling a bit, little arms emerging out the sides.
“Of course I saved him, you jack ass!” Peter wrapped one arm around Rocket, who for once didn’t shrug it off. Instead, the raccoon punched him playfully, smiling and trying to pretend like he didn’t have tears in his eyes.
“You son of a dirstang!” Rocket actually laughed, and soon Heather joined in. Phyla Vell remained the only one alert, staring intently at a pile of rubble shaking and falling to the side to expose a black-clad assassin—Deadshot.
“Um…Star Lord,” Phyla said. Nobody responded, “I mean, Peter! D’ast it!” The woman finally got their attention, and pointed towards the rising villain, whose body was systematically fixing itself, cracking and snapping into place. One thing Blackshot couldn’t replace was his mask, which hung loosely off his face.
“Oh my God!” Heather gasped, “There’s no way…”
Jack Flag frowned, popping his left shoulder back into its socket.
“Miss me, Heather?” The man grimaced.
“This can’t be right…he….you…”
“It isn’t a mind control thing if that’s what you’re wondering. I just saw an opportunity,” Flag picked up the unconscious Gamora, “You never knew me before pre-launch training, Heather. You should be glad you didn’t.”
“But—“
“Take him, d’ast it!” Rocket shouted, already aiming the Element Gun at the two assassins.
A loud whirring sound echoed overhead. A spotlight blinded the group of heroes, keeping Rocket from firing the Element Gun. Jack Flag grinned wickedly.
“That’ll be Nebula and Drax now. You win this battle outlaws,” Flag pulled a grappling gun out from his jacket, “But you’ll lose the war.” He fired the apparatus, locking it onto the ship and then allowed himself to be pulled along without a care in the world. Meanwhile, Rocket tried to shoot him with just his hearing, and ended up blasting a handful of civilians with air.
“Son of a—“ Rocket muttered, the crowd’s mood clearly changed now that they’d realized it wasn’t a show. A few people stepped towards the heroes.
<Be stayink back now!> Cosmo ordered, <Is accident!>
“You know the rules, copper,” A muscular blue Kree thug swung his arm around to loosen it, “No fightin’ in Knowhere.”
<I can not stop this many,> Cosmo explained, <Is impossible.>
“That’s fine ‘cause I don’t trust you not to turn them on us s’more anyway,” Peter said, backing into the glowing field of golden energy that had kept the others afloat.
“It’s fine because I can handle this,” Rocket retorted
“Who the hell d’ya think ya are, coming here and starting this…?” A horse-like alien motioned to the broken buildings and floats around him, “This mess.”
“Who are we?” Rocket casually lifted up the Element Gun and blew their potential assailants away with three quick blasts of air, “We’re the people who saved your sorry asses. We’re the fucking Guardians of the Galaxy.”
“Who?”
Rocket blew the alien a block away, and then faced the crowd, “Anyone else?”
No one tried to make a move. Peter held back a laugh. Rocket just smiled.
“That’s what I thought.”
----
<And I swear on the Motherland that Knowhere Security be helpink you to save galaxy.>
The self-proclaimed Guardians of the Galaxy—including Phyla Vell and a mini Groot—sat staring at Cosmo amusedly, after he’d proceeded to give a twenty-minute apology and call to arms. All had been explained, and Phyla Vell’s story reluctantly believed.
“Thanks, Cosmo,” Peter patted the dog on its head, “Now, let’s jump back to the elgenor in the room.”
“Elgenor?” Heather interrupted, amused.
“Yeah, trunks, three horns on its head,” Peter stuck his hands rather awkwardly above his head, attempting to make horns with his fingers, “Live on…never mind. Moving on. Phyla Vell claims she’s from the future. She does in fact know a lot about us, and—“
“She tried to kill me,” Rocket interjected.
“Because I thought you were the Rocket Raccoon from my time,” Phyla explained coolly, before muttering to herself, “Although you’re not much better.”
“Yeah yeah, you don’t like one another. So what? Maybe Rocket turns bad in the future. That begs the question: why? And how come you didn’t know you were supposed to jump back in time?” Peter continued.
“It didn’t happen,” Phyla explained, “I swear on the Supreme Intelligence, it did not happen in my time. The time line has changed.”
“Which then makes us wonder—“
“What to do with me,” Phyla agreed, before continuing, “I think I should stay. For one, the Time Stone can—and most likely will—kill any mortal who touches it. Moreover, it’s extremely hard to control.”
“You seemed to handle it just fine. Turned Heather back a few hours in time,” Rocket retorted.
“Yes,” Phyla gazed longingly at Heather, who had long since noticed the woman’s attraction to her and was unable to look at her, “I procured a certain…will the Stone required, and I am not entirely mortal.” Phyla faced Peter again. “But I need to stay. I need to fix the time line.”
“Seems like you’d fix it just fine if you went home,” Heather interjected. She hadn’t meant it to come off so cold, but everyone in the room could tell she was uncomfortable. Phyla looked back at her sorrowfully.
“If I did that, then you all would most certainly die.”
“I think we’ve picked up on that,” Peter admitted.
“And Rocket Raccoon would switch sides, and work under Ronan.” Phyla continued, “You do not understand. In my future, the galaxy is nearly lost. The once-great Guardians of the Galaxy are the only remaining resistance to Ronan’s, and thereby his master’s dark rule. I, alongside three other warriors, none of whom stand in this room, are all that’s left of the Guardians.”
Rocket sighed, “Great. Just great. So I turn bad who-knows-why, you guys end up in a coffin, Cosmo—“
“Still acts as Knowhere’s Head of Security.”
“Cosmo still—“ Rocket paused, and turned to Phyla, “Wait, what? You know what? Never mind. The point is, the future is frag. I’m not one for trusting people, let alone someone who tried to kill me, but I’d really not like to be responsible for the end of the galaxy as we know it.”
”I am Groot.”
“I appreciate the support, ol’ buddy, ol’ tree.”
“So it’s decided then. Phyla Vell, you’re now one of us,” Peter held out his hand, and the woman from the future took it.
“Our move must be to attack Ronan, and stop him before he discovers any more of the Infinity Stones. His master must not gain control of all six,” Phyla said.
“Understood, but we all gotta know first,” Peter continued, “Who is Ronan’s master?”
Phyla’s expression darkened. She glanced away, as if the very name she was about to speak scared her.
“His name is…Thanos.”
“Thanos? As in the Mad Titan Thanos?” Rocket crossed his arms, clearly skeptical, “The guy’s a thousand-year-old myth. Everyone and their grandmas knows that.”
“I assure you, Raccoon, Thanos is very real and very much alive.”
“Then where is he?”
“He…” Phyla turned her fiery gaze back to the ground, “I do not know.”
“Well, I think it’s obvious then,” Rocket said, “Ronan used the guy’s name to scare people. He ain’t real. No believing without me seeing.”
“Rocket—“
“What? If there isn’t hard evidence, why should we believe her?”
“Because I saw him!” Phyla explained, her tattooed eye glowing, “I saw him kill Peter and Groot, and Adam, and—and….” Phyla held back tears, covering her mouth with her hand. Peter put her arm around her. No one spoke up…until Rocket did.
“OK, anyone else here know an Adam?” Rocket interrupted the awkward silence.
”I am Groot!”
“Sorry, sorry! Just genuinely curious!” Rocket explained, “I get it. We’ve gotta believe her because she’s crying. Just great. Tears destroy all the barriers, don’t they, Quill?”
Peter looked up at Rocket, irritated, and said, “Rocket, I know you don’t want to believe it, but Thanos is real. Everything Phyla is telling us is true. Celestials d’ast it, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last week, it’s that anything can happen. Any myth could prove to be true, any sorry squirt of a world could rise up to beat an empire, and any…” Peter’s expression softened. “Any person can be a hero. One way or another, Rocket, we’re going to war with Thanos the Mad Titan, and we’re going to save the entire d’ast galaxy.”
----
Elsewhere, in the far outreaches of Space
A slithering form in a cloak slunk to the base of a floating golden flight of stairs. The figure bowed, hiding its grotesque gray-blue face. Its master was obscured by his throne, as it floated in front of him.
“Master, the first Infinity Stone has been discovered. The Time Stone lies in the hands of bandits on The Inbetween World.” The man’s voice was high and gravelly, like a knife scraping over stones.
The being’s master, gazing out at the stars, stood with his head held high. He wore golden and black armor, with a cape as dark as death draped over his shoulders and head, only the slightest hint of stony purple skin evident under the hood. His hands clasped together behind his back and his attention firmly fixed on the stars, the master seemed to pay no attention to his servant.
“Should I ready the Badoon army, my lord?” the being asked. No response.
“Should I order Ronan and his men to take the Stone? I should warn you, it was under his command that the initial attempts at retrieving the Time Stone failed. Even your daughters were a part of his team, and…”
“The sky looks so bleak, does it not?” Thanos the Mad Titan spoke at last, his deep voice booming over the cosmos. “So…full of life. So despondent from so many years of pointless existence.”
“Master…?”
“You talk too much,” Thanos said, “Speech is so pointless. You squander your time instead of absorbing all that is around you.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Thanos sighed, shaking his head, “You do not understand. It is a pity.”
The Mad Titan turned and walked to the front of his throne. He casually sat back into it, and rested his head on a fist. His servant was unable to meet his master’s gaze as Thanos spoke, declaring an order that would alter the course of the universe.
“Unite our disparate allies. I want the Kree, the Spartoi, and the Skrull to come together for the assault. We can waste no further time on separate attacks.”
”Let the war commence.”