Post by Drake on May 8, 2015 21:18:09 GMT -5
#12: Prelude to Infinity: Rebellion Part 4
Escape from Halfworld
By Drake
Previously in Guardians of the Galaxy…
It’s been three months since our heroes came together and fought off Thanos’ Annihilators. Since that time a lot has changed. The Guardians have become leaders in the rebel war against Thanos, joining forces with Knowhere Security, the Centaurian Army, and bands of mercenaries. On a recent scouting mission to Prae’stor the second largest Centaurian world and a Knowhere outlier, Rocket; Groot; the Centaurian warrior, Quie; and Sprog, an alien mindreader, all were kidnapped by the Skrull warlord, Raksor. Since then, Skrull imposters impersonated Rocket and Groot and attempted to assassinate Phyla Vell, the Kree Guardian from the future. The assassination attempt failed, and Phyla began working with Sprog, who had returned from the battle, to stop the Secret Invasion of Skrulls from dominating Knowhere. During an epic battle, Phyla discovered Sprog was a traitor, potentially a Skrull himself, when he shot her with a blaster.
Elsewhere, Peter led the rebel army against the Skrulls over Prae’stor. Upon Peter’s hallucinations created by the Mind Stone—an Infinity Gem of incredible power—and the horrible casualties the rebels faced, they fled the battle, but not before being joined by the mercenary Beta Ray Kill. At the edge of the battle, Mind Stone and Infinity Gauntlet in hand, the Spartoi warrior king J-Son took control of the Skrull forces and vowed to get his son—Peter—to return to him.
In Nova space, on Xandar their homeworld, Heather and Quie—who potentially may be a Skrull imposter—visited the Nova Prime. There, as decreed in a prophecy, the Nova Prime asked Heather if she would become the first ever non-Xandarian Nova in order to unite the two opposed factions: Knowhere and the Nova Corps.
Lastly, in the clutches of the Skrulls, Rocket and Groot found themselves seemingly rescued by a mysterious glowing man…
…
“D’ast knew I should stop taking Quill’s advice on what to drink. Feel like I got hit by a starship,” Rocket grumbled, rubbing his eyes to adjust to the bright light around him. Once he’d gained his bearings, Rocket couldn’t have been surer he was still asleep. The world around him, the open field, the gorgeous trees, the beautiful blue sky, everything was familiar. The bed he was sleeping in amidst the growing corn felt all too much like his bed on Halfworld. Wait…his bed…amidst a cornfield?
“What the…?” Rocket looked to his right. Groot snored softly in a bed next to his. Rocket rubbed his eyes again. When he opened them, the view was the same.
“Just a dream, just a dream. As much as I’d like to stay here longer, I can’t,” Rocket said to himself, remembering the past few days, “Skrulls took us. Knowhere’s in danger. Gotta freaking wake up!”
Rocket pounded his head but received only more pain in response, “Ow! Okay. Bad idea.”
“I am…Groot?” The tree-man lay awake now, gazing happily at Rocket.
“Look around, numbnuts. The Skrulls got us in some freako dream machine. What does this place look like to you?” Rocket pushed.
Groot sat up and off the edge of the bed, looking around, “I…am Groot.”
“Whaddya mean you don’t recognize this place? It’s Halfworld, you d’ast idiot! It’s my home!” Rocket exclaimed, a tightness forming in his chest he couldn’t quite explain.
“I am Groot.”
“True. Guess you didn’t see it in daytime, or, y’know, not ravaged by a Planetkiller,” Rocket agreed, staring at the sky. “Just proves my point that this can’t be real.”
“On the contrary, my friend, this planet—Halfworld—is very real.” A glowing golden man floated down from the sky, at first hidden by the sun’s glare. Soon enough both Rocket and Groot could make him out.
“Right, Goldie. You expect me to believe you’re real too?” Rocket retorted before muttering to himself, “Freaking douchebag…”
“I am hurt, Rocket. I certainly never expected a happy greeting from you, but I hoped for something slightly more…respectful,” the glowing man gently replied, his feet sliding onto the ground.
“Maybe you’ve heard I ain’t exactly the most respectin’ guy around,” Rocket spat.
“Not much has changed in that regard,” the man teased.
“Oh, will you cut it with that crap?” Rocket leaped off the bed and marched towards the glowing man. “Stop with the mind games! I know this ain’t real! Halfworld is dead!”
“I am—“
“Shut it, Groot. This is between me and Mr. Maybe-I’m-a-Skrull-maybe-I’m-a-dream-freak,” Rocket growled.
“Please, Rocket, do not be angry with me. I promise everything I’ve said is true.” The man held his hands up in surrender. “I seek only to help you, my friend.”
“Then prove it. Prove you aren’t the trippy dream bad guy I have to kill,” Rocket demanded. He crossed his arms.
“Very well. For starters, an argument. What is the likelihood Skrulls even bother putting you two in a dream machine, if there were such a thing? Moreover, why create me? Why put you both in Halfworld, somewhere Groot has no experience with?”
Rocket frowned. He glanced around, uncomfortably admitting, “You got a point. So what is this: crazy time travel shenanigans? Who are you, anyway? What’s your name?”
“My name?” The glowing man looked solemnly at the corn, “I…I haven’t been asked that in a long time. For so long people have called me Creator, or God.”
Rocket rolled his eyes, “So you’re one of those people.”
The man smiled an empty, toothless, beautiful and yet horrifying smile, “My name, Rocket, is Korvac. As for this world, no, this is not ‘time travel shenanigans.’ As much as my life has been intertwined with the time stream, I have no personal control over its bend. I am, however, a creator.”
“You do what now?” Rocket asked.
“I create things.”
“Right. The creator who creates,” Rocket nodded, “What’s your deal with Halfworld, with me and Groot? You act like you know me.”
The man began to float slowly back into the sky, but this time Rocket knew it was for show. As he did so, flowers replaced the corn, and Rocket and Groot’s beds shifted into trees. Groot hung limply off a branch.
“As I said, I am the Creator. I made the original Halfworld. I have made this…version. I made you. Now, I have rescued you, my sole surviving creation, to lead Halfworld into prosperity once again.”
Rocket sighed, mumbling, “Why couldn’t it be Quill this time?”
…
“Shoulda had Rocket deal with this crap…” Peter muttered, leaning back awkwardly in the pilot’s seat to rest, “He probably would’ve enjoyed getting mind fragged.”
Milago slowed to what felt like a standstill after flying faster than light speed for half an hour. The vast emptiness of space became visible again, no longer just whiteness. Even more welcoming than the sight of the stars was the decapitated head just a few hundred parsecs away.
“It’s good to be home,” Peter said loudly enough for all to hear.
As if on cue, a chunk of Knowhere blew up in a flash of golden light. Centaurian soldiers glanced down at Peter, their eyes half full of amusement and half full of rage.
“Dammit,” Peter said grumpily, taking the controls from Milago, “I’d like just one fragging time…”
…
144 Seconds Earlier
Phyla Vell looked down in shock at the blaster wound in her stomach, and then back at Sprog, the tentacle-mouthed traitor who had shot her. Phyla’s energy shield faded from existence as she collapsed onto her knees, holding a hand over her stomach.
“You…you’re a Skrull?” Phyla muttered. Sprog stared blankly back at her, blaster in hand.
“No, the Vewnor scum is but a weapon. Like another of your allies, he has an ability that cannot be replicated. Just a pawn in our game,” The Skrull leader remarked as his soldiers marched past him and towards Phyla. “But enough about our plan. I’m done talking. ”
Phyla frowned, “So, Sprog isn’t himself anymore? You’ve wiped his brain entirely?”
The Skrull leader raised his hand, preparing the kill order, “Does it really matter?” Troops surrounded Phyla.
Something changed in the Kree’s eyes. She surrounded herself with golden light and looked apologetically at Sprog. “It does. I’m sorry, Sprog. I can’t risk this.”
In a surprise showing of resilience, Phyla stood, ignoring her wound and facing the Skrull kill squad. She roared defiantly, “I guess you missed these.” Phyla flashed her gauntlets, “One of the Seven Wonders of the Galaxy—The Quantum Bands!”
The Skrull leader curled his lips into a frown, panic arising in his chest, “That doesn’t make sense. We have a report that another has the Bands; that—“
“I thought you were done talking,” Phyla quipped, before letting loose a violent battle cry as the Skrulls fired upon her. The Kree’s body seemed to erupt into golden light, burning away the plasma shots and everything in its path.
…
As Milago neared Knowhere, the smoke from the explosion cleared and the ship’s occupants could make out the faint figure of a woman floating in golden light. As they drew even closer, Peter identified the woman as Phyla Vell; the Kree was singlehandedly blocking a hole in Knowhere’s hull with her quantum energy and covering her wound with a patch of energy.
“Can—someone—help—me out here???” Phyla grunted through gritted teeth.
Cosmo’s psychic voice echoed over the ships, <Cosmo is contactink Knowhere consciousness. Shields be openink soon.>
Seconds later, a faint blue pseudo-transparent glow replaced Phyla’s golden wall, revealing a whole chunk of Knowhere seemingly gone. Gasps of shock echoed throughout Milago. Elsewhere, Beta Ray Kill smirked in awe. Peter activated his helmet and ran down to the entry bay while Phyla Vell managed to float herself into Milago.
“Phyla, what the hell happened?” Peter asked.
“Someone’s gotta do the real work around here…” The golden light faded from over Phyla’s wound as her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell to the ground.
“Phyla!” Peter shouted as his comrade collapsed. He looked up and shouted through the speakers, “We need a medic down here!”
…
“Yes.” It hadn’t even taken Heather a second to think Nova Prime’s offer over, for better or worse. She knew what she had to say. This was her chance: her chance to really make a difference, to have the power to find and save her father, to save the Guardians.
Nova Prime’s lips twisted into a distant smile, “We knew you would accept, Heather.”
“Are you fragging crazy?” Quie shouted, pulling Heather by her jacket to look at her, “They’ll brainwash you or—or—by the Dei, who knows what they’ll do! You won’t have a life!”
Heather smiled gently and put her hand on Quie’s shoulder, “That’s sweet of you to worry, but please don’t. I have to do this.”
The Centaurian backed up a step, away from Heather’s touch, “You…I—I don’t even truly know you. I don’t know why I…”
“Are you ready, Heather?” Nova Prime asked, a golden six-pointed star Nova helmet emerging from a cylindrical golden tile on the wall. Blue energy seemed to drip out of the helmet like blood as it floated towards the queen bee.
Heather glanced briefly, worriedly back at Quie, who remained away, dejected, before she turned back to Nova Prime with a smile, “No ceremony?”
“The Nova Corps does not believe in the frivolity of extraneous events,” Nova Prime simply replied. She directed the helmet over Heather’s head with her finger.
Heather looked up without moving her head, eyeing the floating helmet, “This sure as hell is not like the movies…”
And with a brief flash, the helmet sunk onto Heather’s head and her body was cocooned by azure light. Quie’s eyes widened in awe at the gorgeous butterfly that emerged before her. Heather’s feet had broken their seemingly perpetual tie to the ground and the Terran’s body was protected by blue and golden armor. Three golden circles remained connected by a thin line upon her navy chest plate. Her once sparkling blue eyes remained hidden by light of the same color.
Heather looked down at herself in shock. “This is…” She smiled. “Incredible! I can feel so much. I hear voices…”
Heather looked at the Nova Prime questioningly. The queen nodded, “The hive mind of the Nova Corps—Worldmind.”
Nova Prime floated up to match Heather’s level and embraced her, much to the Terran’s surprise. “Welcome to the Corps, Nova Centurion Douglas.”
…
When Phyla Vell awoke, she found herself in the med bay surrounded by a whopping three people: Peter, Cosmo, and a horse. To be fair, the horse was actually just a horse-faced Korbinite. Phyla still found it hilarious despite her aching head. Hell, maybe because of her aching head.
“Thank God,” both Peter and Cosmo said, aloud and psychically.
“Seems the Kree’s as tough as she looks,” Beta Ray Kill said, “And that’s saying something. I’ve seen my fair share of badasses and you’re near the top of that list.”
“Peter,” Phyla sat up, ignoring Peter’s physical attempts at keeping her down, “There were Skrulls…maybe some more…”
“We know, Phyla.” Peter assured her, “We practically got bombarded by freaked out people when we showed up. They explained everything. Just rest now.”
“I heal fast,” Phyla retorted, ripping the monitors from her skin. Machines around her bing’d and Cosmo was forced to shut them off psychically. Phyla pushed herself onto her feet, growling away the pain. “There any others?”
“We’re testing now,” Peter explained.
Phyla frowned, looking away, “There was a Vewnor…Sprog. He was brainwashed. He…”
“We know. We’ve got footage. Please, Phyla, just rest,” Peter begged again.
<Is good for health,> Cosmo agreed.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Phyla shot back.
“I really do like her,” Kill interjected.
“She’s not your type, Bill,” Peter replied quickly. Phyla’s expression darkened as she thought of Heather.
“Really? ‘Cause she’s Kree?”
Phyla shook her head, “No, because I prefer women.”
Kill nodded, “Okay. Cool. Next topic then…”
“How’s Heather?” Phyla asked.
“We don’t know. She and Quie haven’t responded since—“
Cosmo interrupted Peter, <Sorry, comrade Quill, but you are wrong. Cosmo receivink telepathic notification from The Hub. Heather is beink…that cannot be right…>
“What? What is it?” Phyla demanded, her fervor not going unnoticed.
Cosmo frowned—if a dog could do such a thing, <Comrade Heather make deal with Nova Prime but...> He looked up at Phyla. <She is a Nova. Is part of deal.>
“What?” Both Peter and Phyla shouted simultaneously.
“That’s not part of history,” Phyla exclaimed. “She’s the Moondragon’s avatar, not—“
<Time is changink, Comrade Phyla. You know that.>
“Tt. This just got a whole lot more interesting,” Kill chuckled. Phyla, overwhelmed and frustrated, turned to the mercenary and got into his face.
“Who the hell are you, anyway?”
Kill looked at Peter, who nodded weakly and leaned against a cot. “He’s Beta Ray Bill—“
“Kill,” the merc shot in.
“Kill, right,” Peter agreed, before defeatedly adding, “He’s my best friend. He’s the other remaining survivor of the Redfins.”
Kill crossed his arms and looked at Phyla, but his words were directed at Peter, “Ex-best friend.”
Cosmo shook his head disappointedly, <Is a whole thing.>
…
“Run, you idiot! He’s gonna catch us!” Rocket shouted as he sprinted down land that continually shifted between corn and wheat fields. Groot snorted and extended his legs to outpace Rocket, picking up his friend as he did so. The tree-man looked down at him expectantly. The raccoon rolled his eyes.
“Thank you,” Rocket grumbled.
Suddenly, in a burst of light, Korvac appeared before them.
“Rocket, Groot, please…” The god-man begged.
“You can’t stop us from going home!” Rocket declared, before shouting, “Now, Groot!”
“I am—GROOT!” The tree-man extended his arm to slug Korvac, but it passed right through him. The glowing man tilted his head. Groot’s jaw dropped. “I am Groot.”
“And you call me a pessimist,” Rocket retorted, eyes wide, “But you’re right. We’re totally dead.”
Korvac floated to the ground but expanded his size so he remained a head above Groot. In response, the tree-man grew just a tad over the god. Korvac frowned and grew again. Groot repeated his growth with a grunt. Korvac retorted by becoming even larger.
Rocket sighed, “Can you please stop measuring dicks? I’d like to die with some dignity.”
Both grown beings, now taller than many short buildings, stopped. Groot crossed his arms and looked away, shrinking back to normal size.
Korvac took a deep breath and continued, “I don’t plan on killing you, Rocket. If you want to return to Knowhere, I’ll take you there.”
Rocket shook his head, “And garnags can fly.”
Korvac chuckled and raised his hand. Suddenly, the sky was darkened by an enormous wave of tiny animals more mud than fur, soaring through the sky. Rocket nodded in awe.
“It’s official. I’ve seen everything,” Rocket muttered.
With a clap, Korvac made the garnags disappear. With another, he relaxed into a floating red throne. “I’ll return you to Knowhere, to the Guardians, but do please remember, Rocket, I will always be here for you.”
“Sure. Whatever. Get to it already…if you’re serious,” Rocket added nervously.
“I am Groot,” the tree-man agreed.
“Very well,” Korvac waved his hand. Rocket’s and Groot’s vision began to go black, but Korvac’s voice continued to sputter to them as if through water. “But one day you will return to me, Rocket, when you finally discover that you have nobody else to care for you and nowhere else to go. On that day, simply call my name…”
…
Knowhere
Out of a horrendous, frigid darkness emerged Rocket and Groot, and slowly, surely the light returned as Korvac’s voice remained in their ears.
“…And I will be there for you.”
Peter, Cosmo, Phyla and Kill all froze. Rocket and Groot glanced around.
The raccoon smirked and pointed at Beta Ray Kill. “Who’s the horse?”
…
Hours later, as Heather and Quie neared Knowhere’s atmosphere—the Centaurian the only one in their Spacecruiser; Heather chose to test her newfound abilities—Rocket shrugged off the last of the needles he’d been prodded with.
Peter frowned, “All of the other tests have turned out negative, so this one shouldn’t be any different. You are the real Rocket, right?”
Groot sat beside his friend, “I am Groot.”
“Psh. You said it, Groot. Quill’s blind. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: ain’t no thing like me ‘cept me,” Rocket replied.
Peter nodded, “Yep. Definitely Rocket Raccoon.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you that for hours!” Rocket retorted.
“I am—“
The alarms blared, interrupting Groot. Rocket hopped off the cot he’d been sitting on. Cosmo’s psychic voice blared through their minds.
<Comrades, we have emergency! Ship approachink Knowhere! Big ship!>
Peter ran out of the med bay, followed by the others, and to a window overlooking the vastness of space.
“50-50 shot of this being on our side, and…” Peter spotted the ship, “Bingo!”
“Ain’t nothin’ ‘bingo’ about that,” Rocket muttered.
Outside, Quie had turned the Spacecruiser around and Heather was facing the technological behemoth approaching Knowhere. Other rebel ships already were undocking from the bay and floating out towards the enemy ship. It wouldn’t matter anyway. The starship was armed to the brim and was far larger than the entire rebel fleet combined.
“Holy frag, we’re screwed…” Rocket muttered.
Peter reluctantly nodded, his gaze never leaving the ship.
“It’s…it’s a Skrull Godship.”