The cockpit of the Milano was silent.
The '80s song had stopped. The pressure left behind by that man still lingered in the air, heavy enough to suffocate.
Rocket was the first to explode.
Clutching his oversized rifle, he paced around the spot where Levi had been standing, nose twitching frantically.
"What the hell was that thing? How'd he get in? How'd he leave?!" he shrieked. "Didn't even leave a scent behind!"
"He wasn't a thing. He was a man," Drax muttered, pushing himself up from the wall and rubbing his dazed head. His tone was puzzled. "A very powerful man. I resisted with all my strength. It was aningless."
Gamora's expression was grim. She sheathed her blade slowly.
"He froze space itself. I've only heard of abilities like that in legends. He's no ordinary Terran."
"Hey, hey, relax," Peter Quill said, leaning back into the pilot's seat and forcing a whistle. His trembling fingers betrayed him. "He said he's from Earth too. Sa as . We stay out of his way, he stays out of ours."
"You call that staying out of our way?" Rocket leapt onto the console, pointing at the smooth incision carved through reinforced titanium alloy. "He cut that with his finger. His finger! Quill, you moron, we just slipped past a cosmic god! If he wanted to, we'd be scrap floating in vacuum!"
"I am Groot," Groot said gravely.
"Exactly!" Rocket snapped. "We ditch the Orb and get as far away from that freak as possible!"
"No," Gamora said imdiately. "We sell it. Forty billion units buys freedom." She glanced at Quill. "He said he works for paynt. That ans he has rules. If he wanted it, he would've taken it."
Quill nodded slowly. The man had felt like an observer—far above their level—watching small-ti players roll around in cosmic mud.
"Course unchanged," Quill declared, recovering his captain tone. "Knowhere. We sell the Orb to the Collector. Get paid. Split. And avoid Mr. Space-God."
The Milano roared back to life and set course for a desolate sector of space.
---
Knowhere.
Not a planet—but the severed head of a long-dead Celestial.
Mining rigs and scavengers clung to it like parasites, extracting priceless organic matter and brain fluid.
No law. No order. Only credits and violence.
The Milano slipped through dense traffic and landed on a grimy platform.
The mont they stepped out, the stench hit them—engine oil, alcohol, alien biology.
Three-eyed gamblers. Scaled dealers trading glowing powder. Two brutes beating each other bloody over chips while bystanders placed bets.
"I like it already," Rocket grinned.
Under Gamora's lead, they entered a museum-like structure.
Inside, Taneleer Tivan—the Collector—sat on an ornate chair, stroking a creature that looked half-dog, half-bird.
White robes. Dark eyeliner. An unsettling aura.
"My dear guests," he greeted warmly. "And you've brought… my treasure."
His greedy gaze locked onto the Orb in Quill's hand.
Quill placed it on the table. "You've seen it. Pay up."
"All in due ti," Tivan waved lazily.
A red-skinned maid—Carina—scanned the Orb.
Tivan circled it like fine art.
With a delicate touch, the Orb opened—revealing the glowing purple stone within.
Power flooded the room. Ancient. Oppressive.
"Oh… magnificent," Tivan whispered.
A projection flared behind him—cosmic history unfolding.
"Before creation, there were six singularities," he intoned. "After the Big Bang, they were forged into concentrated energy forms… the Infinity Stones."
He pointed at the purple gem.
"This is Power. With it, one may destroy a planet. Most mortals cannot survive even touching it."
The projection showed a Celestial pressing the stone to a world—
And the planet shattering in violet light.
Quill, Rocket, and Drax stared in stunned silence.
They thought it was valuable.
Not apocalyptic.
"I won't be your slave anymore!"
Carina suddenly scread.
Before anyone could react, she grabbed the Power Stone.
"NO!" Tivan shouted.
Too late.
Purple energy surged through her body. Her skin cracked, light blazing through fissures—
Then—
BOOM.
A catastrophic shockwave obliterated the museum and everything inside.
---
The Guardians barely escaped the rubble.
Outside, Drax stood in the plaza, roaring toward the sky.
"Ronan! Face !"
Gamora went pale. "Drax—what did you do?"
"I summoned him," Drax said with savage satisfaction. "He will answer."
The sky darkened.
Black blade-like warships descended.
At their head—Ronan the Accuser aboard the Dark Aster.
Beside him stood Nebula.
---
High above Knowhere, concealed within an asteroid field—
Levi sat casually on a massive rock, hidden by spatial distortion.
Watching.
"Interesting," he murmured.
This Ronan felt different.
Back in the '90s, Levi had thrown him into a spatial rift. Surviving that—and returning stronger—ant sothing had changed.
The energy radiating from him now was denser. Darker. Laced with sothing deeper than Kree power.
Thanos, Levi concluded.
He remained still.
Let the show play out.
Below—
Drax charged.
Ronan didn't even look impressed.
He caught the punch effortlessly.
"I do not recall you," Ronan said coldly.
With a twist—
CRACK.
Drax's arm fractured.
A brutal kick sent him flying into a wall, unconscious.
"Bring the Orb," Ronan commanded.
Nebula pursued Quill and Gamora into the mining caverns.
Chaos erupted.
Eventually—
Quill's craft was destroyed.
Gamora escaped into open space—but Nebula blasted her life support.
Gamora drifted, freezing in vacuum.
The Orb slipped from her hand—
Falling toward the Dark Aster.
Ronan extended his hand to claim victory.
Up in the asteroid field, Levi rose to his feet.
"Intermission's over."
He vanished.
---
The next second—
He appeared between the Dark Aster and the falling Orb.
Calmly hovering in vacuum.
Ronan's hand froze midair.
His eyes widened.
That face.
That presence.
The mory of being hurled into a spatial abyss flooded back.
"It's you," Ronan breathed, fear threading his voice.
Levi didn't answer.
He simply raised his hand.
The Orb halted mid-fall—caught by an invisible force—and drifted gently to hover before him.
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