Post by Drake on Feb 1, 2015 21:40:51 GMT -5
#9: Prelude to Infinity: Rebellion Part 1
A Day in the Life of the Guardians of the Galaxy
By Drake
Pra’estor, The Outer Rim of the Galaxy
3 Months Later
Cascades of color lit up the sky above Pra’estor. While viewers from beyond the barrier world or innocents far away from the source of the lights may have deemed the fireworks beautiful, the truth behind the colors was anything but.
Four starships raced over a ghetto town on the coast of the planet’s native yellow, sulfuric sea. The poverty below made the sight above all the more depressing, as hyper-tech vehicles fought for the fate of hopeless, helpless working-class Centaurians, the people of a tribal, blue-skinned race.
The first starship, a scrappy, V-shaped racer sped away from the others, a series of orb-like battleships. The orbs—or Raxbars—were the sources of the impressive light display, unleashing their entire arsenal of plasma-based weapons upon the Centaurian Alpha-Fire.
“What the frag are you doing back there: jerking each other?” Rocket Raccoon, the Alpha-Fire’s pilot, yelled.
“I. Am. Trying. To. Fire. The. Weapons. System.” The tentacle-mouthed Vewnor—Sprog—spouted from the weapons deck as Groot tried and failed to help the smaller man out, “The. Tree. Man. Does. Not. Make. Sense.”
Groot turned to Rocket exasperatedly, “I am Groot.”
“I know, ol’ buddy, ol’ tree,” Rocket gritted his teeth, making a quick shift to the left, “How’s Captain Mohawk doing?”
The target of Rocket’s insult was the Centaurian woman lying unconscious in a seat, or more specifically her natural red mohawk-like fin. A wound leaking blue blood had been rather crudely patched up by Groot, who used an extension of his arm to keep her from bleeding out. The injured warrior and lack of medical supplies were the only things keeping Groot from taking the weapons controls from Sprog.
“I am Groot.”
“I. Believe. Groot. Is. Trying. To. Say—“
“I know what Groot’s trying to say,” Rocket growled out, “My question was rhetorical. Quie clearly isn’t doing well.”
An explosion shook the ship. Rocket grunted.
“Time for a different tactic,” the raccoon muttered. He suddenly pulled upwards, causing Sprog to fall from his seat and Groot to have to wrap his arms around Quie’s chair to keep from following Sprog’s example.
“What. The. Krutack!”
“Shut up and buckle up!” Rocket swerved around till he was flying straight down towards one of the enemy ships. Groot’s eyes widened. The cyborg raccoon laughed maniacally as he flipped a switch to his left. “Suck on this, you wrinkle-chinned sons of bitches!”
The last thing Rocket saw before everything blew up in his face was the enemy Skrull pilots’ awe-stricken expressions. When he next came to, the world was spinning…literally. Sprog, Groot, and the injured Quie all fell within a few feet of him, hurtling towards the ground below.
“You! Are! Crazy!” Sprog shouted.
At the risk of losing his voice and breath in the wind, Rocket yelled, “Crazy awesome, maybe!”
“I am Groot!” the tree-man said as he began to grow out his body, creating a protective shield around his three fellow soldiers.
“Oh yeah, like I’m totally going to let you pilot the ship next time,” Rocket retorted, “Give me a break.”
“We. Are. Dead…” Sprog muttered, looking up as Groot’s branches began to cover the sky. The two remaining Skrull Raxbars were soaring down towards them.
Oblivious to the starships, Rocket said, “Relax. I planned everything out. I pulled the escape trigger before I blew everything to kingdom come. Groot’ll catch us. We don’t gotta worry about nothin’ else, ‘cause there’s no way those fragging krutack-made Skrull ships survived an explosion that big.” Sprog directed Rocket to the Raxbars. “Then again, maybe I can be wrong once or twice…”
“Celestials. Please. Give. Me. Grace.” Sprog whispered, his eyes closed, as the ‘roof’ above them blew to kingdom come as the result of a plasma barrage.
Rocket punched him. “Forget those fake gods. Die like a man, Sproggy.”
“You. Know. I—“
“Fighting like a man’s what got us in this frag,” the voice came from Quie, who was now very awake and in a lot of pain, “We have to woman up if we wanna survive.”
“I am Groot,” the now-ball of epidermal wood agreed.
A high-pitch whistle interrupted what would have been Rocket’s weak attempt at acting tough as Quie let loose a sound more inhumane than any of the beings in contact with her. Gripping her laceration, she got louder and louder, her whistle quickly reaching a high enough frequency that Rocket and Sprog had to cover their ears because of the pain. Two arrows on her belt lit up with a red glow and flew into the air. Near-immediately they shot out towards the starships.
The plasma bolts soaring through the air exploded into bursts of liquid fire as the arrows passed through them and headed straight for the ships. The Skrulls didn’t stand a chance. Their ships lasted half a second against the invincible sonic-led arrows.
When at last the arrows returned to Quie, the woman managed a weak smile, “Told ya, Rodent.”
Rocket frowned, “You little b—“
CRACK!
----
Knowhere
The round table lay in the midst of a bustling room at the heart of Knowhere. Men and women of a dozen species argued at the same time. Standing between Peter Quill and his verbal opponent Phyla Vell, Heather Douglas seethed with frustration. She couldn’t take it anymore. The shouting, the crude, childish name-calling had to…
“STOP!” Heather demanded. The room quieted; all eyes were on her. She paused and looked around. The pressure didn’t scare her. In fact, it made her more confident.
Heather crossed her arms, “Stop acting like children. Stop arguing over the simplest, most mundane things. We’re all in this together, right?”
<Well said, comrade,> Cosmo, the psychic canine head of Knowhere Security, projected.
“Oh, I’m not done there,” Heather retorted, much to both Phyla and Peter’s amusement. “There are some simple facts that have to be laid out—“
“Like how we’re outmanned, outgunned, and getting slaughtered on virtually every barrier world we control?” A blue-skinned Kree pirate said.
“We’re barely half an army; how do we expect to fight three?” a Centaurian warrior agreed.
The finned soldier near-immediately found himself on the table, his arm pinned behind his back. Another Centaurian man stood behind the warrior and grimaced, glaring down at the cynic.
“Never speak like a coward again, Parens. We fight till Death relieves us,” Yinuet released his fellow Centaurian’s arm, allowing the man to pull away and massage his elbow, “It is the Centaurian way.”
“Speaking of ‘well said…’” Heather muttered amusedly.
“Parens has a point,” the Kree pirate spoke up again, “As do all of us who doubt this stupid, suicidal plan. Knowhere’s been abandoned by all but those who decided to fight, and that wasn’t many to start with. In the three months since our ridiculous rebellion began, we’ve only allied ourselves with pitiful, primitive empires like yours, losing just as many allies and planets as we gained—“
The man was silenced as an arrow whistled to his throat. Yinuet’s lips relaxed, but his fiery gaze revealed he was far from done.
“Speak badly of our kind again and I’ll—“
<Stop it!> Cosmo interrupted, psychically forcing Yinuet to release the arrow’s sonic hold, <We are beink here to fight together, not each other.>
“You guys are acting like they would,” Peter Quill agreed, “We’re the good guys. Everyone’s supposed to get along. It’s how we win this war and save the galaxy.”
“Good luck with that.”
All eyes turned to the new arrivals as the door slid close. Rocket Raccoon, a half-destroyed Groot, Sprog and the barely held together Quie all gazed darkly over the room.
“The battle…?” Phyla began, but Rocket gave her no time to finish.
“Was won.” The room exploded into cheers, until Rocket demolished the joy, “But it was just a scouting party. The Skrulls will be back with worse. We’re gonna lose Pra’estor.”
“D’ast,” Peter grumbled.
An enormous hairy man turned to Cosmo, “It seems as if we might have to activate the Graveyard Protocol.”
“No!” Phyla interjected. Peter looked quizzically between the Kree woman, Cosmo and the hairy beast Grag.
“Graveyard Protocol. What the hell’s a—“
<Nothing you need to be worryink about. It will not be used,> Cosmo promised.
“D’ast well better not be. You’re not abandoning the Centaurians, not after all the help we’ve given you,” Yinuet demanded.
“I’m totally lost,” Peter said.
“For once, I’m with Peter,” Heather agreed.
<I said, do not be worryink—>
“It’s an escape plan,” Phyla interrupted, before pausing and quickly thinking it over, “Actually, it isn’t a plan. It is the escape itself.”
<Please, do not—>
“They should know, especially if you’re not willing to go to the Corps for help,” Phyla argued.
“Actually, that’s something we should really be talking about,” Rocket said, leaving Peter to wonder about the Graveyard Protocol. “I don’t care what you say, we could really use the Novas’ help.”
“Whoa, wait a second! We were talking about an escape plan?” Peter said.
Rocket replied, “Forget that, Quill! Cosmo’s too much of a wuss to use it anyway—“
<I beink offended that—>
“Shut your traps, you d’ast fools!” Yinuet ordered.
The Kree Pirate jumped right into the thick of things, “Look—how the hell do we expect to win a war when we’re—“
“SHUT UP!”
The room silenced, and the arguing war leaders split their gazes between two women, both of whom had quieted them simultaneously. Heather and Quie shared a brief moment, smiling so subtly that no one except Phyla Vell noticed, and the Kree woman was not pleased at all.
“Go ahead,” Heather motioned to the Centaurian.
“No, I think you’re in better shape to take this one,” Quie said. Heather noticed the warrior’s lesion and her smile grew. She faced the rest of the War Council.
“As much as I hate to say it, we can’t even entertain the idea of an escape plan,” Heather said, before pointing to Yinuet, “We’re not going to abandon the Centaurians, especially after all the help they’ve given us. That leaves us with two options. We follow Knowhere code and do not engage in an alliance with the single greatest law enforcement agency known to Civs*, or we break one of the only laws Knowhere upholds and go to the Nova Corps for help.” (*Civs = a slang term for Civilized people. Ant. Prim)
Phyla couldn’t bring herself to smile, but she was pleased with Heather’s desire to follow the plan that she’d originally put forth, “So, let’s vote. We keep our pride but lose the war, or we let go of ourselves and save the krutacking galaxy?”
Peter grinned, “All in favor of saving the galaxy?”
Heather and Quie’s hands were the first to shoot up, followed quickly by the other Guardians and Yinuet. Soon enough, everyone raised a hand—or appendage, rather—into the air. Even Cosmo managed to lift his paw up.
Rocket pushed his way into the center of the crowd, smiling mischievously, “What’re we waiting for? Let’s go be Guardians of the Galaxy.”
“I am Groot!”
“What he said.”
----
The Opposite Side of the Galaxy
Corvus Glaive, a pale-skinned being dressed in a cloak darker than Death, stood at his master’s feet atop a floating meteor, bowing slightly. The infamous Thanos—Mad Titan and Lord of more worlds than anyone realized—relaxed on his throne, a golden gauntlet resting on his hand. The sole source of light in the darkness came from the glove, or more specifically a purple stone embedded into its side that shined like a dying star.
Thanos nodded to his servant, who instantly lifted the hologram communicator in his hand to his face and spoke.
“Lord Thanos is pleased with your progress, Accuser. For the retrieval of the Mind Stone, he is allowing you to return to the battlefield,” Corvus addressed the blue-skinned Ronan, who nodded meekly.
“Please tell the almighty Titan of my great gratitude. I will not fail him again,” Ronan replied.
“Enough with the pathetic chit chat. When’re we getting what we were fragging promised?” The Skrull Raksor asked.
“Your…payment will come when The Inbetween World is destroyed and the Time Stone is Lord Thanos’.” Corvus retorted, “Now, boy, silence yourself and listen to our master’s words—“
Before he could continue, something caught Corvus’ eye. The focus of the third hologram, a pink-skinned man with green hair, was not expected. In fact…
“King J-Son was ordered to be present during the call. Where is he?” Corvus spat with as much venom as he could muster.
The green-haired man bowed his head respectfully, “My King asked me to give his condolences. He is busy dealing with…personal matters.”
Corvus shuddered with anger, “And what in Death’s name could be so important that he ignore our master’s call??”
“He—“ The Spartoi servant never had a chance to speak. Silence came first, then the quivering, and then at last the screams as blood seeped out of his eyes. Thanos gazed cruelly over Corvus’ shoulder, as the pastel man looked at his master in awe and fear. The expression was mirrored on the faces of the Kree and the Skrull, who both couldn’t pull their eyes away from the horror before them.
”Let this be a lesson to all of you. Should you disobey my orders, there will be consequences. J-Son of Spartax has not yet understood the full majesty of my wrath. He will be punished.”
----
Somewhere in the Indubar Sector
An explosion shook the fortress, causing rubble to fall down onto the Spartoi soldiers hiding below. Even the bravest of the two dozens remaining warriors quaked with fear.
A General shouted, “We’re going to fragging die! The bloody lizards are going to kill us!”
A shot to the chest was all he received in response. His attacker? The only man still standing tall, chin held high, unafraid of the Badoon threat raging unrelenting war upon them. He was muscular and enormous by any standard, let alone the Spartoi’s. Ignoring the dirtied, damaged soldier’s uniform he wore, his clean-cut brown hair and beard denoted his true ranking. This man was royalty.
“Do not fear, soldiers! We are Spartoi! We are strong! And we will not lose to a horde of slithering slaves…” J-Son, king of the Spartoi Empire raised his gun in defiance, “Slaughter them with me! Together, we can conquer anything!”
The soldiers cheered in response. Within half a minute, they were all out of the collapsing building and onto the streets, killing every enemy in sight. They won that day, and by the Sun God, J-Son swore they would win them all!
----
The Dark Aster
Ronan sat in the captain’s seat of the bird-shaped starship, shaking. Gamora, the green-skinned assassin, marched back and forth at his side, clearly troubled. A third being, hidden in the shadows at the corner of the room, gazed out over them.
“We’re finished…” Ronan whispered. Gamora immediately lashed out at him, slapping him. He remained unphased.
“I told you giving Thanos the Mind Stone was a mistake. Now he can fragging enter our heads and destroy us from the inside out! You imbecile!” Gamora growled out.
“I made a mistake, but you must understand I thought—“
“No, that was your problem! You didn’t think! We could have used the stone against him,” Gamora retorted.
“Hey, let’s all take a deep breath, yeah?” The shadowed man emerged into the light, exposing his hideous body. His face was shaped like a horse’s, his skin was yellow, and his eyes a pure, pupil-less white. Armor and weapons engulfed his body, a single tattoo of a lightning bolt on his right hand revealing—beyond his face—the totality of his exposed skin.
“You made a mistake. So what? It happens. I promise some stupid stone won’t stop us from killing Thanos. After all, it’s what you hired me for…” The Korbinite man grinned, crossing his arms, “I’ll get the job done or else my name ain’t Beta Ray Kill.”
----
Phyla Vell hated the past. Or the present, damn it! Time was always so complicated. What do you call the period in which you reside if it’s ten years before anything you’d call normal and yet still something all too recognizable and welcoming? Well, mostly welcoming. She and the raccoon still didn’t get along.
Phyla had been stuck with monitor duty alongside the recovering Rocket, Groot and Sprog—the triumvirate of idiocy. Rather ‘mysteriously,’ the only truly injured soldier from their mission—Quie—was now out and doing what Phyla should have been doing: standing tall at Heather’s side as she argued for an alliance that Phyla had originally proposed. Maybe worst of all, as the Guardian’s powerhouse she at least should’ve been put on the front lines with Peter and Yinuet, but no, Star Lord—or just Captain Quill at this point in the timeline—decided that her abilities were best put to use defending the innocents in case Knowhere was raided. By who? Who the hell would make it past their defenses without alerting the others??
“Y’know you could try a little harder to play nice,” Rocket Raccoon closed the door to Phyla’s bedroom. The Kree woman refused to look up. Much to her amusement, Phyla reminded herself she wouldn’t have to look up to look Rocket in the eyes.
“Imagine what it would be like for you to experience the worst life had to offer, lose everyone you loved, and then suddenly come back with all the powers and knowledge to change your future, only to find you’d been sidelined with the same man who’d killed the woman you loved,” Phyla said coolly, “Then see if you can tell me to ‘play nice.’”
“Fair point,” Rocket sat onto Phyla’s cot by her side. She scooted away. “If I hadn’t lost everyone I loved too. D’ast Ronan killed ‘em all.”
Phyla frowned. Sometimes she forgot what the raccoon had suffered through.
“Fair point.”
Rocket smirked, “I like you, Kree, as much as you think otherwise. Just got to keep that persona with the others, right? I see you do it too, trying not to act like you don’t care when Heather flirts around with that Centaurian.” The cyborg paused before shaking his head and saying, “D’ast, I hate that woman.”
“Yeah…” Phyla agreed. She grinned, “’Least she doesn’t smell like bulweg frag.”
“You talking about me?”
“What do you think?”
“You tell me, Kreeby Jeebies…”
“I swear, Rocket, I had no idea you were…” Phyla looked the raccoon in the eyes, smiling, “like this.”
“Yeah…I think just about anyone can surprise you,” Rocket smiled, but this time it seemed weird, almost creepy. Phyla frowned. Something wasn’t right. “Like that guy behind you, perhaps.”
Phyla rolled away, not even wasting time to look at the man behind her. She instinctively reached for the Quantum Bands on her desk, but found they weren’t there. Now facing Rocket and—and Groot, she was shocked to discover, Phyla found that her cosmic-powered bracelets were in the hands of the tree-man. What the krutack was going on? How’d Groot even get in?
Rocket reached into his belt and produced a small ring that quickly expanded into a full-sized Plasma Blaster. A Skrull Plasma Blaster. Rocket raised the pistol, grinning wickedly.
“Die, Kree scum.”
Oh no…it all made sense now.
Knowhere had been infiltrated by Skrulls!