On Sanctuary II, the entire Guardians of the Galaxy team found themselves locked together in a high-security prison. The cell was damp, cold, and reeked of defeat.
When the Chitauri soldiers stormed in to apprehend them, the Guardians had offered only token resistance. A few half-hearted punches and desperate swings later, they were subdued with minimal effort. For all their bravado, they knew when they were outmatched.
The Guardians were, after all, a band of misfit heroes—a group more accustomed to brawling with low-level thugs than squaring off against galactic conquerors. Their scrappy, underdog charm only went so far.
Particularly amusing was the contrast between Star-Lord and Thor.
Thor, the God of Thunder, was a shining example of Asgardian might. Losing his father and facing relentless trials had only tempered his strength. He had unlocked godlike powers, wielded legendary weapons, and earned his place as a warrior who could reshape the cosmos.
Quill, on the other hand, had fared much worse. The death of his Celestial father, Ego, had left him mortal—a simple man among gods. In two consecutive battles that should have been heroic triumphs, he'd instead become the punchline.
As Star-Lord sat sulking in the corner of the cell, the irony wasn't lost on him. "Man," he muttered to himself, "I really drew the short straw on this whole 'god bloodline' thing."
The other Guardians weren't much better off. Gamora, Rocket, Drax, Mantis, and Groot were all restrained with specialized handcuffs designed to nullify their unique abilities. Even Thor himself would've struggled to break free from these restraints.
But they had one advantage.
Groot.
A single, inconspicuous branch from the sapling snaked its way through the bars, creeping toward the control console.
"Hey, buddy, how about a little chat?" Quill called out to the Chitauri guard stationed outside their cell.
The soldier ignored him, remaining stoic and unresponsive.
"Okay, rude," Quill muttered before raising his voice. "Oh boy! Don't worry, everything's gonna be alright!" He began singing off-key, belting out a tune that made Rocket groan in embarrassment.
"Stop it, Quill," Rocket hissed. "You're killing me here."
Mantis tilted her head curiously. "Why is he making those noises? Is he courting the guard?"
Drax nodded solemnly. "Perhaps. But don't worry, Mantis, I will not accept your courtship. You are far too ugly."
Mantis blinked in confusion. "What? That's not what I meant—"
Quill ignored the commentary, doubling down on his ridiculous performance. He danced awkwardly, his limbs flailing like a drunken marionette. The Chitauri soldier's helmet tilted slightly, clearly baffled by the display.
"What is this idiot doing?" the soldier seemed to think.
Meanwhile, Groot's branch stealthily reached the control panel. A thin tendril pressed a button, and with a loud click, the cell door slid open.
"Crack!"
The electronic cuffs binding the Guardians fell to the ground. The Chitauri soldier spun around, startled, but before he could raise an alarm, Quill stepped forward and placed a hand on his helmet.
"Shh," Quill whispered. "Go to sleep."
With a dull thud, the soldier crumpled to the ground.
"It's done!" Quill said triumphantly.
"Don't celebrate just yet," Gamora said, her tone icy. "That was one guard. We still have to figure out how to take down Thanos."
Quill smirked. "Don't worry. I've got a plan. And it's foolproof!"
Rocket snorted. "Oh, great. Another one of Quill's foolproof plans. We're doomed."
In the command room, a towering figure sat alone, gazing at a photograph in his hand. It was a picture of a young Gamora, her bright eyes and innocent smile frozen in time.
Thanos, the Mad Titan, stared at the image with uncharacteristic tenderness.
"Little one," he murmured, his deep voice almost soft. "You must still hate me. I always knew you would." He traced a finger over the photograph, his expression distant.
"I took your world from you. I took your mother. I took everything. And yet… I regret nothing."
His gaze hardened as he spoke.
"Your planet was dying. Overpopulation, famine, war—it was collapsing under its own weight. My actions saved it. The children who live there now know nothing of hunger or despair. They grow up under clear skies, in peace."
"Salvation always demands sacrifice. Resources are finite, and life must be balanced. Without that balance, the universe will fall into ruin. Someone has to make the hard decisions, no matter the cost."
He fell silent, his words hanging heavy in the air. Then, suddenly, his demeanor shifted. His head snapped up, and his eyes glinted with sharp awareness.
"Come out," he commanded, his voice a thunderclap. "I know you're there."
From the shadows, Quill emerged, a nervous smile plastered on his face.
"Hey there, Big Guy!" he said, his tone overly casual.
Thanos's eyes narrowed.
Before he could speak, the unmistakable rhythm of Quill's signature mixtape blasted from a hidden speaker.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Quill sang loudly, his body moving to the beat. "Star-Lord's here to save the day!"
He danced into the room, his arms flailing and his feet shuffling in a bizarre spectacle that defied all logic.
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