Knowhere
War Room

Richard Rider stood with an uncharacteristic haughtiness. He had always been stern in the name of his perpetual heroism but never before had he carried the reserved air of stoicism that he now did. He was no longer simply the Nova of Earth, and although that role had been great in its own right, it held none of the responsibilities he now carried across his broad, taut shoulders as the Nova Prime. In his time as an intergalactic adventurer and policeman, Richard had considered himself widely versed in the realities of space-life. Yet, standing in the decapitated head of the Godlike Celestial pushed his imagination to the limit. It was a home to outlaws and bandits, the unsavoury resided within the harsh mining districts and fluorescent lighting of the living quarters. They had built a home for themselves where they remained largely untouched by the Nova Corps, as long as they didn’t become too much of a threat.

It wasn’t supervillains that walked around him as he had entered the market areas of Knowhere. It was petty thieves and those who sold their skills to the highest bidder, and in time, each would fall under the reprimand of the Nova Corps and find themselves locked in the isolated military prison known as the Kyln. Richard wasn’t worried that he could become associated, or afraid of them. Gorani was a man of high intellect and charisma but even he couldn’t hide amongst the criminals of Knowhere. It was an unlikely birthplace for any heroic ensemble but the so-called Guardians of the Galaxy had proven to be little more than annihilators. Sarka and Alpha Centauri were perfect examples of their negligence and regardless of the beady-eyed handler’s concerns, they would not be allowed to continue without supervision.

He could send a lieutenant but Nova was a proud man. He had spent the majority of his teenage years as a superhero and now, the idle administration of the Nova Corps was boring him. He had been called to a higher power but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the position he now held.

“Xandar does not require you?”

Nova smiled. “Xandar is a world of great adaptability. It’ll continue to succeed in my absence and I can maintain control of the Nova Corps from Knowhere, if I must. Don’t worry about my responsibilities, they’re my own.”

It amused Richard to see the uneasiness that fell across the liaison’s ever-shifting features. Gorani, although more clever than the common criminals that he’d passed in streets, was little more than any of them. He had been a black market trader and he’d turned his penchant for selling and profits into the management of the now defunct Lumineers. Nova had been aware of them and, for the most part, they had had a flawless track record in terms of heroism – with a notable lack of criminal damage when compared to the Guardians of the Galaxy. However, Nova had seen the ease with which Gorani had tossed the former team aside in favour of the latter. He was the petty crook that he’d always been and Nova wasn’t going to allow him to run the galaxy into chaos in his search for infamy.

“Carina.”

She appeared instantly. Her movements were graceful but slightly robotic, as if she had been forced to endure years of training and rehearsals to perfectly replicate every movement. She was of Krylor but younger than any of those creatures Richard had ever met, her body was shapely and clad in a white dress – not unlike a tennis uniform from Earth – and her hair, a shocking shade of pink, was drawn into two swaying ponytails. Her entire body was a much paler, pastel shade of pink but her eyes, that immediately drew him in, where a deep shade of lavender. Her smile, much like her gaze, was almost infectious and the intergalactic police officer had to wipe the unsightly grin from his face.

“The good Nova-Prime here would like to join the ranks of the Guardians,” Gorani muttered to his chipper assistant. “He’s come an awfully long way to deliver this . . . joyous news to me and, of course, I’m ever so glad that he’s done so.” Nova ignored the lack of sincerity in his tone. “However, I did ask that I not be disturbed, Carina.”

Her smile faded, a dark expression overcame her. “I am sorry, Mister Gorani. I failed to man my post when the Honourable Nova-Prime had arrived. I was bringing . . .”

“Enough,” he stopped her. “I care not for what you were doing, I only care for what you are about to do. I want you to find the Guardians and bring them to me.” He paused for a moment, turning a strikingly toothless smile towards the Earth-born hero. “I would like them to come and meet the newest member of their team.”

Nova gave another crooked grin. “I’d love to meet them all but I can do it at another time. There’s no need to pull them from their personal lives. The next briefing will be fine.” He watched the dark expression that Gorani looked upon his young aide with and immediately felt uneasy. He forced a yawn. “I’m growing quite tired though. Would you mind if I borrowed Carina, and she can show me to the dorms?”

Gorani nodded. “Certainly. Carina. Show our esteemed colleague to the rooms.”

Carina nodded, her body tense. In a strange twirling movement, the Krylorian directed the hero towards the door and bowed as she exited behind him. Even when Gorani had been left behind, and the young woman fell into step slightly ahead of him, she didn’t break the customary way in which she held herself. Richard watched her with a growing sense of curiosity. Krylorians had a tendency to be unambitious and complacent, the beauty of their woman had easily led for an increased population in the slavery and sex trades. The aforementioned lack of passion due to the ease at which their technologically advanced society bred in them made it so that those women were frequently content the life that had been forced on them.

Richard had witnessed these situations before, he’d busted these sex rings and brought the women home without so much of an acknowledgement. It unnerved him that Carina, the ideal specimen of beauty, seemed too indifferent to the life she led.

Criminals whistled as she passed and the poor, whom she obviously knew, addressed her by name. Richard couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t fight for freedom. She may have been treated better – as far as he was aware – than most of the slaves that he’d come across but the docility with which she embraced her fate concerned him. He’d been a hero since he was a child, he’d witnessed nothing but ambition and conviction and the way in which she acted only further confused him.

“Carina.”

She stopped, turning to face hum, and he noted that her smile had returned and formed slight dimples in her cheeks. “Yes, Honourable Nova-Prime.”

“Richard. You can call me Richard. Or Rich. Or anything,” he replied with a laugh. “There’s no need to be quite so formal.”

“I apologise.”

“No, don’t apologise. I’m just . . .” he paused. “How did you end up in the service of Gorani? I mean, Krylor is a long way from here.”

Her smile shifted into an expression of amusement, her doe-eyed gaze was suddenly sly and intense as she spoke. “Richard, are you attempting to build a case against my Master? You know as well as I do that the extreme likelihood is that he bought me in the black market auctions of a port town.” She nodded. “It was Hala.”

Richard’s lips were taut. “I can free you. I can decree he let you go . . .”

“I do not need saving, Richard,” continued Carina as she led him into a luminescent building. “I could be anywhere else living a worthless life. I may serve the Master but at least I get some form of adventure. Slavery is a small price to pay.”

His brows furrowed as she led him towards a vacant room. His intention hadn’t been to investigate the activities of Gorani but he was certainly intending on keeping a close eye on the handler going forward. Nova would make the Guardians of the Galaxy a heroic task force that didn’t destroy every planet they were dispatched to assist and if he could bring down the career criminal at their helm in the process, he considered that to be a bonus.

DARKNESS ON THE EDGE OF TOWN

Part II

By Gavin McMahon

Quadrant 5

The Terrigen Mists, a right of her people, had gifted the alien princess with the innate ability to harness and manipulate the four classical elements. Crystalia of the Inhumans had done so for many orders during her lifetime – the Avengers, the Fantastic Four – but now she found herself standing on her own ahead of a horde of fire breathing insectoid creatures – each was six times her size and covered in what she assumed to be a fairly impenetrable hide. Her long blonde hair began to hover as the Inhuman princess manipulated the air around her. It whirled with a growing intensity. In her mind, Crystalia felt concern for those who had been swept into openness of space. Her physiology allowed for her survival in the lower pressure and much like her the daemons ahead of her, she had controlled the area on which she stood. However, there was an upside to the absence of all other worthy – well, as worthy as criminals could be – life forms. Her eyes opened, no longer cold or icy but raging with an intense inferno, as the air that whirled around her caught light. Thrusting her arms forward, the dancing embers barrelled towards the daemons and washed over them like a fiery tide.

As the flames died, the five beasts still stood. The one at the forefront seemed rather charred but otherwise unharmed and certainly not dead, as she had hoped. They returned fire as the agile beauty dove from the oncoming path. Her hair was almost singed as she spun onto her knees, bringing a rush of water within inches of her body and allowing the furnace to slither across the aquatic surface. Dropping her guard, the princess jumped onto her feet and created two hard-air daggers. She sliced at the nearest of the daemons in to swift movements, back flipping as it swung its spiked tail towards her. Dispersing the daggers, Crystal created a bow and arrow but it quickly proved to be less effective than her first strike.

“Damn.”

Her mind raced as the other creatures burst into action. The princess’ heart was in her throat as she witnessed two of them escaping into another quadrant, tearing through the metallic doors as if it were paper. Screaming a warrior’s cry, the Inhuman display just how far she had come from those days when she had need her many men – the Human Torch, Quicksilver, Black Knight – to protect her. She had trained and gotten stronger. Crystal was not the naïve little princess hidden in her city amidst the Himalaya’s or to be confined in the imperial halls on the Blue Side of the Moon. Still, she hadn’t been strong enough to protect her daughter when the moon had been invaded. Crystal had lost her child and now, as she stared death in the face, she wouldn’t fail again.

Crystal let loose. Her body exploded in an inferno. Heat and flames swirled around her as if she rested at the heart of an earth-based volcano. Delicately, she outstretched her hand and it connected with the spiked tail that crashed towards her. As her forefinger connected with the nigh-impenetrable hide of the daemon, something astonishing happened. The crevices in its hide burned as bright as the fire that surrounded her as the skin beneath the armour set alight.

“No more.”

The daemon exploded with a shriek. The flames around her died as she looked towards the two that remained. Before she could launch another strike, and refusing to admit that she felt drained from her power display, Crystal was faced with the bulging green musculature of the once-human mercenary known as Drax the Destroyer. His life as Arthur Sampson Douglas long behind him, the creature known only as Drax had only the murder of Thanos on his mind and nothing would get in his path. He had found himself reluctantly aligned with the Guardians of the Galaxy but he had grown to feel a strange emotional attachment to the rag-tag team.

“Nice of you to join me,” panted the princess as she recovered. Her face formed a now rare smile, she may have thought little of the man but she was content to have an ally.

“Your mongrel has summoned me,” he groaned angrily, pointing towards Lockjaw. The teleporting canine quickly disappeared again. His words slurred, a testament to the alcohol the green behemoth had consumed. “Drax will not be summoned.” His voice bellowed as the first of the daemons charged.

Drax the Destroyer clasped it by what could roughly be considered a nose. He threw the creature over his body, allowing it to crash into the doorway behind them. He moved towards it, leaving the Inhuman heroine facing her own monster. Running towards it, Crystal slipped onto her back and slid underneath the monstrous hide of the beast. Pressing her hand against the surprisingly soft underside of the daemon, she released a force blast of air, throwing the creature into the roof above her. Crystal rolled from its path as it crashed to the ground.

“Drax,” she called. “Aim for the stomach.”

Drax grunted. “I will not take orders from a mere girl.” He rolled his body, deflecting the attack of the beast, and eliciting a roar. Drawing the daggers positioned at his waist, Drax thrust them into the creature’s stomach and, again, threw it into the wall.

“Thatta boy.”

The Markets

His hand was extended as a blue hued energy pulsated around it. His copper-alloy mask shifted to form a smile as he moved his fingers, releasing the energy in a concussive blast. It rushed over the markets it like a tidal wave, throwing both of the rampaging daemons away from the citizens they threatened to kill in their mindless path of destruction. Mantis, the beautiful telepath and Celestial Madonna, appeared by his side as she narrowed her eyes and willed a nearby florist stall to come to life. What had once been simple flowers sprouted into terrifying structures of vine and leaf, spreading along the ground between people that ran for their lives, and with a wave of her hand, the patches of exposed earth reacted the same. The daemons where entwined in their grasp, struggling and screeching for freedom as they spewed flames.

“I would say we make quite a team,” he laughed as he looked at the pitiful beasts ahead of them.

Mantis nodded. “This one concurs, Major.”

The beast’s tore through their restraints. Mantis fixed at her jacket as Major Victory thrust his shield, a future variant of that owned by Captain America – a relic in his reality, and watched it smash into the hard hide of the daemon’s head.

“Nothing’s ever easy,” he said, running forward and catching the shield as it boomeranged towards him.

Mantis followed. Her lips forming a smile, she had missed the thrill of old-fashioned heroism. In a time before the Guardians or the Celestial Madonna, she had been an Avenger and found herself active in many heroic pursuits – without the concerns of politics. “Would it be any fun otherwise?”

Major Victory shielded himself as the spiked tail crashed down upon him. He was a man who had been a hero in his own time. He’d fought in wars alongside the heroes of his future, the original Guardians of the Galaxy, and he’d had a largely successful career. Major Victory’s psychic abilities were an assist, a fun display of power, but he was much more adept in the realm of hand to hand combat. His strength, although not superhuman, was above that of an average male and, when he required the assist, he could manipulate his psychic bursts for extra effect. He smiled as he smashed the shield into the creature’s head. Much like Mantis, he enjoyed the old style thrill of a mindless foe. The shame he felt for failing in his mission was not alleviated nor was the harsh truth that he probably had no reality to return too, but for a moment, the leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy allowed himself to get lost in the foray.

He struck twice with the shield before pressing his palm on the forehead of the creature and releasing a burst of psychic. Synapses disconnected and the daemon collapsed, as was the nature of his powers.

Mantis operated behind him with a smooth, elegant grace. Her smile never once faded, the strenuous athleticism she manoeuvred never appeared on her features. Long dark hair slivered around her shoulders, the hairband barely holding it, and her nose twitched as she struck endlessly – searching for a point of weakness in the tough hide of the beast. Her hands struck, unsettling it’s feet from the earth, but as she landed a kick directly in the creatures exposed stomach – it was thrown far from her. Her brows furrowed as she turned to her leader, he brought his elbow down onto the cheek of the slowly rousing beast.

“They’re surprisingly tough.”

He brushed saliva off of his arm. “They can be injured but it’s not easy. I think it’s some sort of armour.”

She stretched out her arm, eyes began glowing bright, fading as she dropped her arm. “They’re primal. There’s nothing to grab onto. Whatever they are, they have minds like a wild animal.”

“I guess we just keep hitting then.”

Mantis shrugged. “This one certainly doesn’t have a better plan.”

Quadrant 5

Crystal blinded the daemon with one of her hard-air daggers, twisting it in the orange eyes before drawing it back. Stepping backwards she delivered a kick to the beast’s face, using her control of the wind to push it over, and it landed on its back. The princess avoided the flames that spewed from its mouth, looking over her shoulder to see Drax make another swipe for the abdomen of his beast. Crystal rushed forward, positioning herself on the stomach of the beast and pressing her hands firmly against the warm flesh. She released an inferno from her hands, the skin reacted the same as before and she flipped off just as the creature exploded like the one before. Stumbling on her landing, Crystal was faced with Lockjaw and another hero, an unknown, but his uniform told her that the man was of the Nova Corps.

“Hello.”

He smiled. “I presumed you might need a hand. I was wrong.”

“There were others,” she said. “They made through that door and disappeared. We got caught up handling these three.” She looked around. Only one remained and the corpses of the others had entirely disintegrated. “Well, we have one left, but Drax will master it eventually.”

“I did hear Drax the Destroyer was on board,” he replied. His tone wasn’t afraid or concerned, there was a more reproachful element to how he spoke, a disapproval befitting of his standing in the world of intergalactic law enforcement. “I’ll go after the other two then.” He flew off.

She remembered. “Hit them in the stomach!” Her call was loud but she was unsure that he’d actually heard her. As the blonde turned her attention back towards Drax, amidst the battle cries of the blood hungry Terran, she witnessed a feat of his strength like nothing she’d ever seen before. Her jaw dropped at the sheer violence before her, a sight the sheltered young princess had never before been privy too.

Drax slammed the daemon against a wall and slipped his fingers into one of the numerous bleeding flesh wounds he’d made with his knife on the animal’s stomach. He was like no human she had ever seen before, yet she could ascertain certain similarities physically to the Hulk. It was the calculated coldness with which he analysed and threatened his prey. His hands clenched on the open wounds, his muscles tensed and defined, and before she could even let out a gasp, the man reborn as an alien agent of death had torn the daemon into two parts with his bare hands. Well, the flesh had been torn and left the entrails exposed, connected to one another through the woven pieces of otherwise impenetrable hide. Covered in the creature’s blood but without hesitation, he turned to her. Drax’s expression was emotionless in the face of what he had just accomplished.

Crystal attempted not to seem unnerved but there was a peculiar quiver in the words she spoke, unbefitting of a woman of her rank in Inhuman society. “This way. They–“

“I will not be lead.”

Clad only in a scarlet pair of trousers, his chest heaving, Drax marched past her and the princess followed, reluctant at first but the distinct curiosity she felt outweighed her contempt for the man whose reputation – all bad – had so readily preceded him.

The Markets

Nova landed, his eyes watching intently as two of the so-called Guardians of the Galaxy opposed the same creatures as the wanted felon and the Inhuman princess had been. One of them pounced, trapping Major Victory beneath it with only his shield for protection, and the young intergalactic officer of the law slipped into battle mode. His vocation aside, the New Warriors and time spent with Earth-based heroes had taught him all that he felt he needed to know. This was simply a much grander display of those skills – the Guardians were firmly in the limelight, and Gorani was sure to make them receive even more exposure with his little press conference. Nova flew at the daemon from behind and wrapped his hands around either side of the . . . head? He charged his hands and unleashed nova blasts directly into the skull. It caused the daemon to buck him like a donkey but Nova quickly recovered, pulling the leader of the Guardians free and offering a smile – all that could be seen from his heavily masked face.

“Thanks, I owe you one.”

The officer shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. What are teammates for?”

“Huh?”

“Gorani will explain. I’m joining the troop.”

“Less talking and more action, gentlemen,” called Mantis as she mentally created vines to bind the creature charging towards her. “This one is officially over the nostalgia.” With a flick of her wrist, Mantis snapped the vines backward and they launched the daemon through the air and into a nearby shanty house. She grimaced. “This one hopes that was evacuated, may have overshot.”

Nova was slack jawed. “May have?”

Her eyes, which had been glowing, dimmed as she turned to him with a nod. He’d heard the Celestial Madonna had considerable power at her fingertips. “No life signs.”

“That could really go either way at this point,” groaned the Nova-Prime, remembering his mission objective was to stop the carelessness with which they operated. Major Victory’s silence was telling of his leadership style and the officer knew where he felt most of the blame rested.

Silence.

“Look,” continued the Terran. “I was told by the princess that the stomach’s weak. Let’s launch a full assault, see if we can’t destroy them before anyone else on Knowhere gets killed or maimed.”

Nova flew into the air as Major Victory glared after him. He was already locked in a battle with Cynosure over the leadership of the Guardians and now he was faced with another youthful upstart. Major Victory had led soldiers, he wasn’t about to be challenged by a nobody who could be any one in a thousand of Nova Corpsmen. The man of the future rushed after the eager young hero, and thrust his shield through the air. It spun like a razor, assisted by his psychic abilities, and tore into the chest of the daemon before boomeranging back towards him. Nova swooped down and unleashed several powerful nova blasts at the site of the wound – succeeding in exploding the creature as Mantis brought regrowth to the vines, capturing the beast and turning them to penetrate it. Nova assisted with another blast and landed as the daemons were both dead.

Crystalia observed the scene as she waltzed through the doorway, Drax in tow after she’d overtaken his stride. “Looks like we’re too late for anymore fighting.”

“Believe this one,” Mantis nodded. “This one shall be in no hurry to visit wherever they came from.”

“Question for another time, team,” said Major Victory. “We have a press conference to attend. We’re heroes now, remember.”

War Room

“Carina.”

The Krylorian snapped to attention, moving into an upright position and facing the man that had addressed her. “Yes, master?”

“Where are those ungrateful Guardians? I have the entire world watching, waiting to see them, and they’re nowhere to be seen,” Gorani continued to moan. “I may as well not have tried. You made them all aware of the time of the press conference, didn’t you? It’s something you’d forget you silly girl.”

The malice in his voice wasn’t lost on her but she replied with a bright and familiar smile. Carina had long ago learnt that the easiest way to appease her master was to show no sign of weakness or trepidation, even when she wanted to scream. The Krylorian had accepted her lot in life. “I assure you master, all of the Guardians of the Galaxy were informed of your request that they should attend this gathering of elected officials and the intergalactic press.”

Gorani glared, as much as his gelatinous features would allow him to do so. “This was not a request, girl. In return for my . . . honourable leadership.” His face shifted into an arrogant smirk. “They will do as they’re told or fall under my endless wrath. I have a lot of associates, and you would all do well to remember that.” He raised his hand to strike her but was interrupted as a firm hand caught him.

“Is there a problem here?”

“Ah, Brae of Bryldn,” cooed the Guardians’ handler. “I was just teaching my assistant here some manners. Impertinence cannot be accepted from . . . the hired help.”

Brae frowned. “Referring to her as hired help infers that you’re paying her for the services rendered, and we both know that isn’t the case.” His face sullen, he released the once-criminal’s hand and looked onto the doe-eyed features of the pretty Krylorian. “You can go. I won’t let him hurt you.”

Carina straightened her skirt and exchanged a subtle glance with Gorani, disappearing into the bustling crowd only when he’d given a brief, curt nod.

“Where are the others?” enquired Gorani, anger rising like the incoming tide beneath his civility.

It brought great pleasure to the hero known as Cynosure to see him this way. He may play the game for the sake of his planet’s, and his title’s, honour but he had not forgiven the liaison for the callous way that he had thrown the Luminals – a functional, non-destructive force – to the slaughter so that he could create a new pet project. The purple skinned hero shrugged, picturing all of the violent things he wished to exact on the man but couldn’t. It was a murderous mind that had allowed him to claim the title of Cynosure, and it remained beneath his attractive, pleasant façade. His race were warriors, bred in the blood of their enemies, and Brae was no exception to that.

“We’re here.”

Gorani turned to face them. His face shocked as he saw the frayed and, in some cases, bloodied appearance of the incoming Guardians of the Galaxy. “What happened to you lot? Of course. Intergalactic television and this is what your giving me to work with.” His nostrils flared and Brae was almost positive his head would explode from frustration. “Carina,” his screams were heard as the Krylorian rushed towards them. Her vision following his pointed finger. “Get that one cleaned up!”

Carina led Drax away.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Cynosure cocked a brow. “What happened?”

“Unknown monsters attacked the south side of Knowhere. We intervened.” Major Victory was blunt, asserting his position as leader.

“No-one thought to call me.”

Crystalia, sensing the tension, stepped in. “I sent Lockjaw for assistance. I was first on the scene. It must have been over before he could locate you. There was no slight.”

“Hm.”

Carina returned. “Guardians of the Galaxy,” she bowed. “The universe awaits.”

Quadrant 3 – The Residences

Vance . . .

He could feel the sweat beneath his costume. Goosebumps ran across his skin and Vance Astro took his head in his hands, determined to get his mind back in order. He’d set out on a bizarre mission with the intention of saving Alpha Centauri from a recurring fate of destruction and now, he’d failed. He’d gathered a team of superhumans that lay scattered or dead across the cosmos. Vance had had better days. Exhaling heavily, he turned towards the shadows that seemed to speak to him. It had been two days since they’d returned to Knowhere and taken the advice of Gorani but he wasn’t able to get a niggling concern from his head. Persephone had disappeared, without so much as a yes or not, the Goddess was gone. He’d expected a lot from those he gathered but the state in which it had all come crashing around him was of little surprise.

Help me . . .

Vance stepped from the bed. His eyes wide as he turned on the lights to find the empty room. It was basic, more akin to a military barracks than a residence, but Knowhere was a place of endless black market resources and limited means.

He ran his hand over his head.

Help me, Vance . . .

Vance whispered. “Persephone.”