IGRINAR

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“This one has never been so amazed.”

Mantis glanced at the high-arching halls and stained-glass windows, her eyes wide with the wonder of a child as she visually absorbed the luminescence of the Great Monastery of Igrinar. In many ways, it reminded her of the churches she had seen during her time as an Avenger in New York City, the cathedrals that shone amongst the blackness of the Big Apple’s criminal underworld. However, even the finest church on Earth couldn’t hold a candle to the dome roofed cupola’s she’d witnessed since her arrival. Igrinar didn’t just house a great place of faith, the entire planet was committed to it as if with a singular mind. She imagined the culture of the common bee and the uniformity of their species when she pictured the vastly differing denizens of Igrinar – for few could be considered native to the planet they now called home.

As Celestial Madonna, Mantis knew there were sects and cults that worshipped her across the cosmos. Yet, she managed to remain humble because she felt so disconnected from her role in the fate of the universe. It almost seemed as if that time had come and gone with the death of her son. Nothing more than a blink of an eye that would leave her changed and damaged in ways that she would never truly understand. She had been trained as a weapon and still she found herself soldiering through the cosmos but there was more to her than that. She had learned that, in times of strife and grief, she could present a calm rationality that others were unable to attain. Her many personages, both in space and on Earth, had afforded her the realisation that all she needed to be was herself. She was simply Mantis, and that was enough.

Her diplomatic worldview was partly why she stood on the planet’s cold surface, albeit not the only one. She turned her eyes from the splendour around her and looked towards the masked face of Major Victory. Vance seemed less impressed by what stretched ahead of him. His mind had been weighted since she’d arrived to collect him in the early hours of the morning. She tried not to pry with her telepathy, preferring honesty over an invasion of privacy, but she was concerned that he had lost his grip as a leader to the Guardians of the Galaxy in the aftermath of Alpha Centauri’s destruction. The Vietnamese woman wasn’t heartless, she accepted the tragedy for what it was and mourned the loss of Persephone and Bug in her own sombre way, but she had managed to isolate her grief and act as she was expected to. Perhaps Vance had lost too much, so much of his existence prior to travelling through time remained a mystery to her.

All Mantis could be sure of was that his mission had failed and the team he’d longed to return to remained deceased in that timeline. It was a weight she wouldn’t have wished upon an enemy.

“Perhaps we should move on,” he said finally. It had been a long journey spent mostly in silence. “We don’t want to keep Brightstorm waiting. Gorani did say he would be breaking from his prayers to speak to us.”

Mantis nodded. “Of course.”

Without much of an increase in their step, Major Victory and Mantis moved towards the oversized golden-plated doorways of the Temple of Igrinar, they’re most lavish and prized cathedral and the base of all operations in what could roughly be described as their church. As she entered, still in awe, Mantis was reminded of the Roman Catholic faith on Earth. She had never been privy to its inner workings as prior to her transformation from ninja to goddess she had been raised as an atheist. There was a conflict to the duality she now felt within herself. Still, noting the robed priests and the idolatries to a creature that was not their Lord, the Vatican sprung to mind.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t noticed the lumbering movements of the brightly adorned Brightstorm, formerly of the Luminals but in the aftermath of Alpha Centauri he had returned to his monastic order for a life of prayer. Mantis would have struggled to have seen the change of vocation as humbling but she held her tongue. It wasn’t her place to cast aspersions on the faiths of others. Enough wars had already been fought for such prejudices. The Universal Church of Truth had crumbled under them and she, with the assistance of Persephone, had played a role that was likely to haunt her waking nightmares for the rest of her life. The Guardians of the Galaxy had taken a once naïve warrior and transformed her into a traumatised police officer. Mantis wasn’t sure she was thankful for what she’d been through, but she could understand that the experiences had shaped her.

“Mantis, Major Victory,” he said. His tone was cordial, a reminder to the pair that whilst they had been on the same side of a war, despite the minor championship amongst the Guardians and the Luminals, Brightstorm was not a friend and had never quite managed to become a colleague. He viewed them as an acquaintance and with only his voice, the alien managed to convey that they should do the same. ”It has been such a brief time since we parted and yet, it feels as if millennia have passed. How can that be?”

“We’re sorry for disturbing you, Brightstorm,” began Major Victory with a composed civility befitting of his environment. It was almost as though, after all the destruction and recklessness they had endured throughout the cosmos had finally taught him the leadership skills he had never quite attained before then. “Gorani communicated that, although you were in prayer, you would be free to talk to us. We’re here about Rocket.”

“Oh yes, Rocket,” continued the religious zealot. “What an interesting creature he has turned out to be. The faith was not his calling. That was quickly evident.” He paused for a moment, his eyes flickering as if a memory had come to mind but in the end, it seemed he had chosen not to relay the specifics of the story. “He has been an active and vocal proponent of dissent amongst our hallowed halls. Prayer and tranquillity is among the finest attributes of Igrinar. Rocket seems incapable of either. There were times when I would have happily settled for awkward silence but even that was beyond him.”

Brightstorm shook his elongated head. As he bowed it, Mantis smiled. She thought of the Egyptian interpretation of Pharaoh’s, with their sloping foreheads and extended scalps that seemed to stretch to the heaven’s in an alien fashion. Just as the Asgardians had proven to be Gods and aliens, perhaps it was possible that a race such as Brightstorm’s had inspired a faith that even he was unaware of. It brought questions to her mind, questions that it wasn’t the time to ask and she would never truly know the answer to as she was almost certain this would be the last time she ever came face to face with Brightstorm. Once they abandoned the hallowed sanctuary of Igrinar, Mantis saw no reason that they would ever return.

“Rocket, however, has succeeded in one thing. It was the most important aspect of returning to Igrinar, in many ways. We are not a cult, bringing Rocket with me was about healing rather than recruitment. In that, he has exceeded expectation. The poisons of Arka have been expelled from his body and his cognition returned a week ago.” He shook his head. “Such a short time, such a lot of mischief managed. Rocket has not asked for you, nor is he aware that I had you called for. I do not know how he will react, but I can only hope he will embrace you as old friends and leave.”

Major Victory and Mantis exchanged a nervous glance. Brightstorm was offering no such hospitality now as he had done in the moments before. It caused the cordiality of the conversation to rapidly disperse, it allowed uneasiness to grasp them. Rocket, volatile and aggressive, had never been the easiest of the Guardians of the Galaxy to commune with. He had always saw them as a means to an end and, although they desired the familiarity of the genetically modified raccoon, they were unsure that he would feel the same. Brightstorm’s words suggested that he may not.

“Madia will escort you to the cafetorium,” finished Brightstorm. “That was the last known location of the bottomless raccoon.” Without so much as a farewell, Brightstorm vacated and his place was assumed by a silent man, his robe masking his features.

Major Victory and Mantis, amid reverence, also remained silent as they snaked through ornate hallways of closed doors. Each door seemed to be occupied by a bizarre humming of different frequencies. It was melodic and distracting. Major Victory found his mind becoming unfocused with every step into the heart of the building. The prayers offering a numbness from the chaos that otherwise plagued him. The images of Aleta, Niki, Charlie and Krugarr burning on the arid sands of a planet that no longer existed in either timeline. He almost wanted to stay, to shirk the self-imposed responsibility that now moved him like a puppet, but he was stronger than his misguided actions and, as much as he desired peace, he sought atonement.

Finally, as they entered what appeared to be a mess hall from the pages of a Harry Potter novel, the din dispersed and Mantis and Major Victory could think straight without concentration. Madia, as quickly as he had appeared, was gone and the twosome were left to locate the raccoon on their own. It didn’t prove to be difficult. Rocket stood on a long table to the far left of the cafetorium, regaling what could only be a younger and less stoic generation of monks with a swashbuckling tale of adventure, thievery, prostitution and murder. Major Victory wanted to roll his eyes but refrained. He had long learned not to expect much from the motley crew he had gathered to fulfil his failed vendetta.

“Rocket,” he announced his presence and caught the creature’s attention as he came to a halt at the end of the table. Mantis gave a friendly wave from across his right shoulder, although Rocket’s face warned her it was far from appreciated. “I think it’s time we should be going and allow everyone on Igrinar to return to their faith without interference.” His words fell on the youths like a reprimand, although not necessarily his intention, and they sombrely returned to the lunch that had been provided for them.

“Why would I go? I have everything that I need here. A bed, food and who needs money with all this charity?” he laughed wryly, his whiskers twitching as he spoke. “What more could a raccoon want from life?”

Mantis interrupted. “One must always be careful not to overstay their welcome, Rocket. Brightstorm has been hospitable but even charity cannot be maintained forever. There comes a time when we must step aside so those more in need of it can receive it. Now, Rocket, that is the time that we face.”

“I don’t have to take orders from you or cue-tip,” complained the humourless mammal. He waved his paws, as if directing them towards the door. “I got a good gig going on here and I haven’t even had to hurt nobody.” He paused, his eyes furrowed. “Well, hurting hardly nobody. So, there’s been an improvement in my general behaviour. I wish I’d known about Igrinar a long time ago. Would’ve saved be a lot of hassle and I wouldn’t have almost died helping you bozos.”

“You don’t need to listen to us,” replied Major Victory sternly. “Though I’d recommend you do. You’re about to find yourself cast out of this place so you can leave with us or you can be forced out by the monks. The choice is yours but only one option gives you a place to go that isn’t back to pillaging and murdering just to get by.”

Rocket grimaced. “Fine.” He marched down the tablet top towards them, impishly kicking plates and glasses that were in his direct path. ”Where are we going?”

“Knowhere,” they chorused.

“Damnit,” he moaned. “I hate Knowhere.”

KNOWHERE

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“Carina.”

For a moment, it seemed to the Nova Corpsman that the pink-hued Krylorian intended to ignore his call. She took a step forward, partially hidden by the florist stand, but then waivered and turned to face him. Boyishly handsome and exuberant as always, Richie burst forward in a quick but brief sprint to reach her. He extended a hand, although she simply stared at it curiously and he was reminded again that the cultures of Earth were not always so easily transferred to an intergalactic setting. Her hair, a deeper pink than her skin, swayed in two striking pigtails and she wore the same dress as when he had met her. It reminded him of her ‘indentured servitude’ as Gorani put it when asked but Richie only saw it as slavery.

He beamed as he spoke to her. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

Carina was nervous. “The Master has made sure that I have been kept busy. He has a lot of errands that need run and doesn’t like me in the quarters when he is meeting with his other clients. I’m only privy to the meetings with the Guardians, such as yourself.”

Being referred to as a Guardian of the Galaxy was going to take a little getting used to. Richie rubbed at his neck but attempted to keep his cheerful disposition. He’d been a New Warrior in times gone by but that seemed like a lifetime ago. Teamwork was not something that was returning to him easily. He had served with others as a Nova Corpsman, other intergalactic police officers such as himself, but he was no longer in that role either. Having been elevated to Nova Prime, Richie was at the top of the career ladder and his office had become more administrative than active. The battle against the daemons had been his first fray in several months. It had reinvigorated him, heroism was his calling not administration.

“I can imagine,” Richie tried to hold his judgement from his words but failed. Gorani’s shadier dealings weren’t the Krylorian servant’s fault but it did cause the hair on his arms to stand on end. He was a noted police officer and he currently associated with a known criminal. Richie would never allow that arrangement to persist for too long. “He does seem to have a lot of meetings outside of our little posse.”

“I don’t understand,” she replied.

He explained. “Posse just means team. The group. As in the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking, Nova Prime,” said Carina formally. “However, I am not at liberty to speak about my Master’s personal dealings. If you wish to garner information from him, I suggest you do so directly.” She seemed slightly offended as she turned her back and walked off.

Richie furrowed his brows in confusion. What could he have said to startle her? It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t allowed too long to rest on his thoughts as a sturdy hand clasped his shoulder and he turned to face the green face of Drax the Destroyer, a noted serial killer who had taken a recent penchant towards heroism. Or at least, some semblance of it. The longevity of that decision remained undetermined. Richie, for his part, still dwelled on the necessity of watching him and not simply arresting him. It weighed on his mind that he was actively allowing a serial killer to roam the cosmos under the façade of heroism but, he also considered that, in the wars to come, Drax the Destroyer may be more useful in the field than locked in a cell on Xandar.

“That was far from smooth, Nova.”

He shrugged off Drax’s hand. “I only wanted to check she’s okay. I’m not sure where your morals lie, Douglas, but I was raised to believe slavery wasn’t a good thing.”

Drax shuddered at the use of his mortal name. He had turned his back on the memories of his human life long ago. Still, he continued undeterred. “The Krylorian doesn’t need your protection. They’ve been known to be quite a formidable species. She clearly enjoys the freedom of her current post.” He paused. “Besides, should you really be chasing skirt on Knowhere rather than doing your job on Xandar? There are plenty of criminals around here who can see the Nova Prime has taken his eye from his duty, and they’re opportunistic.”

The green behemoth said nothing further as he left the tawny-haired human to reflect on his words. Words that felt so heavy that they might crush him. Richie was a long way from home, he was a long way from Xandar, and none of that felt comfortable but Gorani was up to something and he had to get to the bottom of it. It was his duty and he had easily found himself on the inside, another Nova Corpsman might not have been afforded the same opportunity. As Richie walked towards his quarters, he was determined to check in on the activities of the Nova Corps and the running of his office in his absence. Lindy Nolan, his second in command, had seemed a little more than overwhelmed when he had last checked in. He didn’t realise Drax’s furious eyes watching him as he left.

Drax had been the Destroyer for as long as he could remember. In many ways, at least in the life he presented to the outside world, it was all that he had ever known. However, Arthur Sampson Douglas was not as forgotten as he may have wished. The former real estate agent that had become a cosmic warrior still rested within the depths of his mind, an angel on his shoulder that was all too easily ignored. Memories of Yvette and Heather, his wife and daughter, still echoed in his sleeping conscious. It brought little relief to his soul to find that Heather had survived the ‘car accident’ in the Mojave Desert. As beautiful a woman as she had grown into, Heather had been both hero and villain as Moondragon and was every bit defined by her amorality.

It wasn’t what any father wished for his child.

Whilst Arthur and Heather remained, Yvette had burned under the nonchalance of Thanos’ attack. It still riled him that he had been unable to enact his revenge. Retribution was said to be swift and fulfilling but he had been searching for the opportunity, ceaselessly attacking his eternal foe, for what struck him as years. Perhaps even decades. No, Drax could not allow himself to dwell on the humanity he’d cast aside. He could not allow the Nova to get inside his head, casting him off course using his mortal name. Instead, he returned to his brutish mindset and trailed himself towards Starlin’s. He could have found a nicer bar on Knowhere, although they were all in some state of disrepair, but he found no reason to do so.

Drax just wanted to drink and drink hard.

“Come in.”

Carina entered the room, her eyes groundward in an effort not to catch her master, the cosmic media mogul known as Gorani, in an activity which she couldn’t later claim plausible deniability for. The Krylorian was less of a victim than she knew Nova assumed her to be. She had been sold into the servitude of Gorani but still, she had used the situation to escape a fate that was far worse on Krylor. She would be the best servant he had ever had and when the time came for her to escape, when she had made a life for herself beyond his grasp, she would take it. Until then , she knew doe-eyed oppression was her finest protection. The Nova’s meddling was not only messing with the desires and plans of her master but also threatening her own.

She stopped, waiting for him to address her so that she could speak. It took several moments for him to look up from the documents on which he continued to scribble what could loosely be considered as his signature. Finally, the top of his greasy, bald scalp gave way to his beady yellow eyes as they focused on her. Whereas others on Knowhere looked upon her and her species as something sensual, the Krylorian women had an extensive history in only two professions: warriors and prostitutes, as slavery was much more modern to them, Gorani viewed her as if she weren’t a living being at all. Carina was an object, a commodity, and he owned her.

“Carina,” he drawled. “I presume you have come to me for a reason. Would you like to inform me as to why you considered it appropriate to interrupt me when I’m working?”

She nodded curtly. Her pigtails swayed. “I have just encountered Richard Rider, the Nova Prime of Xandar, in the market square. He appears to be continuing his research into your activities, master. He tried to communicate with me directly, offering flattery, but the conversation quickly made a turn towards you. As it has done before.”

Gorani scowled menacingly. “You were to stay away from him, Carina. That was my command.”

“Yes, master,” she replied. “He cornered me. He sought answers into the meetings that you held outside of him and his, as he said, posse. I did not understand, master, but he explained that he was inferring to the other members of the current Guardians of the Galaxy.”

“Hm,” he sighed. “Nova Prime is shoving his nose into my affairs. It remains to be an issue that I may not be able to overlook.” He was pensive, calculating for a moment. “Carina, you have–”

“I’ll presume I’m not interrupting.”

The Inhuman princess, often considered to be the People’s Princess of Attilan, announced her entrance with little consideration for whether she may have been interrupting the dealings of Gorani and Carina. Quickly, the Krylorian was dismissed. Crystalia had little time for the whimpering servant of the mogul. She had even less patience when it came to Gorani. He seemed to believe himself superior to what he was. As a royal, Crystalia was unimpressed by those who carried false airs and graces. She had been raised in the glistening halls of the domed city of Attilan. She had witnessed first-hand the attempts of volatile people who sought to improve their social standing. There was a business arrangement that bound her to Gorani and the redheaded royal was in no mood for him to continue to lie to her. He had promised her that he would use his seedy informants to locate Luna but weeks had passed and her daughter remained missing.

“We have to talk.”

Gorani smiled sleazily. “Don’t we always, dear princess. It seems we have one of these little chats every day.”

She rolled her eyes so hard that it was visible to him, even she thought they may had reached the inside of her head. Her long red hair, so bright that it was almost garish and tainted with an ornate onyx Inhuman symbol, was drawn away from her face and rested across the breast of her golden uniform. Once joyous and, perhaps to some, even frivolous, the princess as she had been known for so long by her family, the Avengers and the Fantastic Four was no more. In her place stood a woman, a mother stripped bare of the child that she had loved. Inside, Crystalia felt as though she was in a state of constant collapse yet none of this showed on her stern features.

Gorani knew as well as she did that this conversation was a daily occurrence and every new dawn brought more urgency. She was not on Knowhere for the scenery or the folly, she was there on a mission. The best diviners on Attilan had been unable to specify a location and, as the once great city had burned to ash, Crystalia had decided to turn her back on the lavishness she had once known and venture into the depths of a shady, corrupted world with which she was unfamiliar. Gorani was a pawn in the schemes of grander folk, even if he couldn’t ascertain it, but he had the connections she required. The rumours and words he heard would never have reached the ears of Crystalia or her kin.

“What is your news?”

Gorani shrugged, if that was even possible in the gelatinous form of his species. It was at least what she presumed his movements to have meant. “There is none, unfortunately. Fear not, your highness, I have people scouring the cosmos, from Hala and beyond, in search of news of the missing princess. She will be found.”

“And as every dawn passes to dusk, what is to become of her? I want my daughter back, the innocent young child of summer, not an embittered husk of all that was,” growled Crystalia. “You aren’t finding her fast enough. Weeks have passed since the pillaging of Attilan and still she remains in the clutches of god knows who. I will not stand for it, I will not be appeased by empty promises. Only my daughter’s return will save you.” She grimaced. “And so, I will leave you with a warning, I want news of her whereabouts so I may fetch her by the week’s end.”

Gorani seemed amused. “Or what, pre-tell, will be the comeuppance?”

Crystalia smirked, her red brows furrowed in severity. She did not make idle promises like the man before her. “Or I will return to this room and I will burn your body until there is nothing but ash and dust. A remnant of a creature that has outlived his usefulness.” Flames flickered in the elemental’s hands before she turned and stormed from the room.

The smile slipped from Gorani’s features as he watched after her. If the Nova presented a problem to the safety of his business dealings, the princess promised to prove a threat to his very existence. Neither could be allowed to fulfil the prophecies they carried in their minds.

EARTH

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In the depths of darkness and despair, as she felt only she could understand, the downed goddess pulled at the metal that clasped her by the wrists and ankles. She was slumped on the floor, her long golden hair, the colour of the dying summer sun, stretched messily across her shoulders and extended along her back. She failed to count the hours, days or perhaps even weeks that she had spent in the chilly cells of Hades. Persephone, the goddess of springtime and all its bounty, had not been created from the union of Demeter and her brother, the Skyfather Zeus, to act as a gilded bird in a cage. The goddess knew her fate had made symphonies, it had been orchestrated in the plays and motifs of inspirational men and women who had long since been released from their frail mortality. She had been revered, worshipped, and that had empowered her. Yet, caged as she was, Persephone was unable to call upon the gods of her belief as she once had been.

In Hades, no-one could hear her. It was a domain beyond their reach, the kingdom of her same named husband. The God of the Dead. Few dared to venture through the caverns of myth, the stench of pure ore and decay rested against her nostrils. The spring had turned to summer, and the summer had faded into autumn, but, despite her attempts to flee him by leaving the planet, Hades had found her and taken her. He had bound her only once before, otherwise she had served as his stoic and desolate mistress, the Queen of Hades. She had desired no such title, she had been young and foolish and in that desire to escape the claustrophobic bosom of her mother, Persephone had faltered. She had given into temptation when faced with the young man, a stranger to her, that lured her to his dark home with promises of wealth, fruits and sensuality.

She had thought herself a woman. She had been wrong. Persephone, or Kore as she had also been known, had been a girl. Yet, she was a woman now. Her life was painted as a tragedy and, regardless of the truth in that belief, it had not always been the horror as depicted. It may have taken millennia but eventually the obsession of Hades had mellowed, it had become something akin to kindness or, if she had not known any better, love. Persephone had been adorned with the flowers and wealth that she had been promised, the gods offered her six months beneath the sun and that had been enough for a while but, as always, she had come to crave more. The wailings of the dead kept her awake, as it had done so in her earlier years, and she concluded that it was what she had missed least.

Still, her attempts at rescue from the clutches of her husband had gone unanswered. It seemed that in her absence, Vance may have come to forget her. It had happened so quickly but, as she was aware, Persephone was naïve in the affairs of the heart. Perhaps love was fleeting, particularly in the eyes of an immortal such as herself.

“My darling Persephone.”

The goddess looked up from the grime and dirt of her cell and stared directly into the masked features of her husband, the Horned Prince, the King of the Dead, Hades. Like clockwork, he had come to call upon her. Persephone’s sombre expression didn’t falter for a moment. Her heart-shaped lips parted for a second, maybe less, but she thought better of it and remained silent. Persephone had learned, in all her years by his side, that Hades hated nothing more than when she was unresponsive. He longed for the happier times in which he had lured her aboard his chariot to this fate. There may once have been some romanticism in his desires.

“Still sulking? It’s hardly becoming of a goddess to waste her time on such petulant endeavours,” he continued. “Even less becoming than it is for a wife to abandon her husband. No warning. No reason.”

She shrugged as she sat upright, unable to hold her tongue. Her words were demure in intonation, if not in intent. “I would say that the passing millennia have offered many an excuse.”

“You still defend your actions, woman?” growled the God of the Dead. “I have done no wrong. Even your confinement is within the remit of the agreement between Zeus, Demeter and myself. You are to spend six months in Hades, and they can be six months of love or happiness or of pain. The choice rests with you, my sweet rose of the spring.” There was a modicum of affection in his voice but she had heard it all before.

Persephone remained sullen.

“The guards have told me that you continue to moan from hunger,” he snarled, tossing something of a half-circle through the bars. “Then eat.”

Her eyes followed the item as it came to a halt and her jaw slackened. Anger followed surprise as she noticed that it was a halved pomegranate, and six of the seeds were missing. It had been so at the beginning of her tale and now, if Kleodora’s warning was to be believed, it would be present at the end.

“Please Vance,” she whispered as her eyes shimmered brightly, her power weakening with every word as the chains at her wrists and ankles burned her godly flesh. “Save me.”

FROM A WHISPER, TO A SCREAM

By Paige McMahon

KNOWHERE

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“It’s Persephone.”

Richie unfolded his arms, a quizzical expression on his face. “Who?”

“A golden-haired enchantress,” sighed Brae, his purple features showing he held little regard for anyone who had formerly considered themselves to be a Guardian of the Galaxy. He was still clearly unhappy with the dissolution of his Luminals. He was uneasy about associating with them, the sole representative of his colleagues.

Mantis interjected, correcting him. “Goddess.”

Rocket smirked. “She was good to have in a pinch. Easy on the eyes too, eh, Victory?”

“If you didn’t mind the continuous implosion of planets in her wake,” said Drax with a shrug. “In hindsight, I kind of miss having her amongst us. There has been less exploding since she disappeared.”

Crystalia’s jaw dropped. “She blew up planets?”

Major Victory was quickly losing his patience. The conversation continued, recounting the Guardians of the Galaxy’s original exploits against the Universal Church of Truth on Sarka. Somehow, the information revealed didn’t rest the tense feeling in his chest. Each new detail threatened not only to derail the reputation of the Guardians, which was already bad enough, but to also paint the goddess as if she were a villain. He couldn’t allow the consensus to dictate that he went alone, the strength of the Guardians, as fractured as they tended to be, would only help in his battle against whichever monster from Earth had taken the woman that he had been growing to love.

“She was a good soul,” interrupted Mantis. It was almost as if she had been able to sense his distress and, as an empath, he realised she may have done. “Powerful. A goddess to a people that most of you would never have heard of. She was a colleague and, if we’d known her longer, perhaps she may even have been a friend. Regardless, this one believes we should allow Vance to say his piece. Even if you don’t know Persephone, you know him and that should be enough.”

Drax remained unconcerned. He hadn’t joined the Guardians of the Galaxy to have deep conversations. He wanted to punch anything that moved and use the information to get closer to his goal, the annihilation of Thanos and all associated with him across the cosmos. Brae bristled at the idea of listening to Major Victory any more than he was required too. Crystalia nodded, Richie folded his arms again in preparation for the speech and Rocket continued to fiddle with whatever weapon of mass destruction he was intuitively creating.

Major Victory stepped forward.

“Persephone was a Guardian and, like the rest of us, she made more than her fair share of bad decisions. She ran from a bad situation on Earth and attempted to make a destiny with us amongst the stars. She’s disappeared. We came back from Alpha Centauri and, like so many others, she didn’t,” he cast an apologetic towards Brae but it wasn’t appreciated as the Bryldn native turned his head. “I don’t know where she is but the voices I’ve been hearing have been a cry for help. A plea from a goddess. I won’t ignore it and, I hope I can rely on you to stand with me.”

“Of course,” smiled Mantis.

Richie nodded. “Well, it might be nice to get back to get back out there for a while. I’m in.”

“Do we know where to find her, Vance,” enquired the princess curiously. “Or are we just running headfirst into a manhunt across the galaxy. I don’t think I need to remind you that no such effort has been made for my daughter.”

“It will, Crystal,” he said. “You can count on that. I don’t know exactly where Persephone is but I know where to start looking. Once we finish with rescuing her from whatever she’s got herself into, I promise we’ll put all of our efforts into finding Luna and reuniting you.”

She relented with a sigh. “I’ll help you.”

“If there’s fighting, I’m there,” grinned Drax. There was nothing comforting in his bloodlust, but it had become accepted, particularly by those who had served with him the longest. Most of all, it made Nova uncomfortable.

“Eh,” said Rocket as he pulled a lever, much to the chagrin and anxiety of all that surrounded him. “I’ll help save Persy. I’ve met worse.”

As silence protruded the scene until six Guardians who had spoken turned to face the silent Cynosure. Rather than offer an answer, Brae just stared back at them with his hands in his pockets. He knew they expected him to mindlessly follow the lead of Major Victory. However, much like Crystalia, he had his mind on other matters that were much more pressing to him. Had any such effort been made to locate Impact, Discharge or Suspensor? As only Faze and Crater had been noted as dead there were Luminals possibly out there missing and in need of assistance. With no leads, Brae was in a bind, but all the resources seemed to focus exclusively on the original set of Guardians. Bitter was an understatement.

“A son of Bryldn owes not oath or favour to a Terran goddess,” replied Brae. “In fact, her situation is a disgrace to her godliness. No god of Bryldn would ever need the assistance of others to break free from any situation.”

“You owe her nothing,” agreed Vance. “You owe none of us anything. I agree, but you had an opportunity to walk away and you stayed. You could have done a lot without hanging around but here you are. You may not want to be a Guardian, Brae, but you clearly want to be a hero. Your chasing that goal, and this is a chance to prove it.”

Sullenly, Brae nodded.

ABOARD ROAMER #305

THE VASTNESS OF SPACE

Crystalia crossed her arms as she looked at the emptiness of space, the gleaming of distant stars, some of which had died long ago. In her extended life, the princess had never taken the time to embrace the majesty of the galaxy she lived in. She had never fully absorbed the glories of the worlds and suns that stretched far beyond her own. She had led an insular life. Her attentions focused on performing courtly duties and her many loves, some true and others led by a lustful heart. Yet, for all the loves and friends she had gained throughout her existence, the princess now stood alone. Not abandoned, simply not accompanied. She didn’t long for those who had been left behind, she longed only for the child she feared, in her heart of hearts, she would never embrace again.

“It can be a beautiful sight, can it not, Nova?” she said to alert him that she was aware of his arrival.

Richie, meaning not to pry, had entered the deck and remained in silence. He looked at the stars ahead also but his sentiments were entirely different. He was overwhelmed by the sight as only a human could be. Richie had been born in a world that had dreamed of visiting the stars, of understanding their bounty, and a few had but none to the extent that he had managed to. Even heroes he had worked alongside had never fully comprehended the planets that lay beyond Earth. Whilst the princess found the vision to spring a longing in her heart, Richie found it humbling. A reminder that, whatever gifts he had acquired since childhood, he was still a human and lived the life that many had dreamed of.

“I hadn’t realised you’d been searching for your daughter all this time, Crystal,” he said rather tactlessly.

She shrugged, uninterested in the conversation with a stranger. “Your sympathy will not appease me. I have experienced the sorrow and anger of others for far too long, I had allowed their emotions to dictate the actions that I should take. I follow my own heart, wrought with rage as it has become, and I act as I see fit. I will find my daughter, whatever may be left of her, and when I find who has taken her, it will take all of the gods and the soldiers of the cosmos to stop be from exacting my retribution.” She turned to him, noting the uneasiness on his face through a subtle side-glance. “That wounds the pride you have in the cosmic laws, Corpsman? I will do as I have to and I will apologise to none for the consequences that follow.”

“The consequences will be yours to reap,” he replied.

She turned back towards the vision of space. “For now, I am contented in watching the stars. In imaging the galaxy at the beginning of existence, the hope and purity it must have felt.” She thought for a moment, remembering that he was Terran. “I’ve heard it claimed in many royal courts across the galaxy that humanity is but a flea in the galaxy, or even a plague. I say they’re wrong. Humanity is not the plague they proclaim. It’s a plague and we are all plagues that have tarnished what could have been magnificent.”

Richie watched her and he wasn’t sure whether to be in awe of her, or afraid. The sensation of uneasiness that rested in the pit of his stomach made him feel as though it should be the latter.

“You didn’t wish to visit Brightstorm,” said Mantis as she walked towards her reluctant crewmate. “This one did not question your decision then as it was yours to make. Yet, as we discussed the mission of saving Persephone, this one could sense the longing you had to return to your teammates. To find them. The sorrow you feel is masked by anger but this one recognises all the emotional spectrum. Brae, why do you sulk rather than act? You could request that of us, just as Crystal has.”

Brae stared at her. “Stay out of my head.”

“This one was not in your head,” she replied calmly. “Empathy and telepathy are not alike. Telepathy is an invasion, an active movement to enter and roam the mind of an individual. Empathy is like a wave, it pulsates from every individual. Drax presents himself to be wrathful and filled with eternal rage, for example, but the revenge he seeks is fuelled by sorrow and desperation, not anger.” She cocked her head, allowing her long black hair to fall unevenly. “This one simply understood the feelings you held in that moment. The Guardians, your colleagues, are here to help you.”

Brae continued to frown. Her explanation offered a better understanding of her abilities and, in all honesty, prior to it Brae had been unable to differentiate between telepathy and empathy. However, his skin crawled at the notion that she could understand him in a way that he was unwilling to share. Momentarily he fingered the helm of his sword, his mind toying with the idea that removing her head from her shoulders would solve the problems he now felt. Still, he knew the consequences would outweigh any benefits. He had seen her in action, he was aware that she was a gifted fighter, and the risk of her overcoming him was strong. Brae knew he could simply continue to hide behind his abrasiveness.

Brightstorm, the name played on his mind. Brae hadn’t refused to act as an emissary because he didn’t want to be reunited with the monk of Igrinar. He had actively chosen not to face the only remaining member of the Luminals that could point out his failure as a leader. Of all the people on his planet, Brae had been selected for his giftedness as a warrior and intellect as a tactician. Yet, when all had required those elements of him, the Bryldn had been bratty and uncommanding. He had allowed himself to lose, to be cast aside, it was an uneasy alliance with the Guardians of the Galaxy but Major Victory, for what seemed like the first time, had been partially correct. Brae sought to remove his shame by performing acts of heroism and, when the time was right, he determined that he would reclaim the leadership that had been stripped from him.

“I don’t require your assistance, Celestial Madonna,” he continued, his tone mocking.

Mantis sighed. “Or you are simply too proud to ask for it. There is no need to ask, this one has already extended the olive branch in good faith. Hopefully you can see past your ego and accept it.”

Brae bristled at her words but there was no time to respond as Major Victory interrupted them.

“We’re here,” he announced.

They prepared to disembark. Brae was careful to nudge Mantis with his shoulder as he passed, and she was courteous enough no to respond to the slight.

EARTH

S03 51E6803925+483MW91

“What’s that smell?” asked Cynosure, he turned his nose up melodramatically. It was meant to be scathing but presented as more comedic to those who had witnessed it. However, luckily for the Bryldn, many of the Guardians had been more concerned with the view that stretched before them.

Rocket Raccoon laughed as he sauntered forward, laughably heavy artillery strapped across his small back. “Humanity.”

“Home,” Nova whispered softly, so quietly that his words were lost on the wind.

The Italian city of Cumae, long abandoned and in a state of ruin, remained breath-taking. For Guardians such as Major Victory, Drax the Destroyer, Mantis, Nova and Crystal, Earth was not a new sight. Yet, most of their time had been spent in the metropolitan cities of America, or the like. Each battle seemed to be drawn to that most populated city. Now, they were faced with Roman columns and ancient buildings that hadn’t seen civilisation other than the rush and tampering of tourists in centuries. Each of them could admit it was beautiful, but Brae refused to accept what he felt on the matter. His brain was driven by his stubborn disregard for all things human. Perhaps for all things Guardian, of which he now considered Earth. Nothing before him could match the splendid architecture of Bryldn.

“Why are we here of all places?” enquired the princess of Attilan. “It is, of course, very attractive to the eye but why would any foe be hiding a goddess amongst these ruins?”

“As a member of the Guardians, she was known as Persephone,” answered Mantis. “However, Persephone is the Greek name of a deity that is known to the Romans as Kore. A temple, complete with priests and priestesses, was built on this land to worship her in the Eleusinian Mysteries.” Her mind continued to draw information from the Earth itself. Her botanopathic bond providing her with the history they required. “This is deemed to be an entrance to the land of Hades. Persephone, or Kore, is the queen of that land.” She looked towards Major Victory, relaying the instructions the Earth provided. “We’re searching for the entrance to the Underworld.”

“That’s a start,” Major Victory shrugged. “I didn’t know all of that but Cumae is the last place Persephone was before she was drawn into the situation with the Universal Church of Truth. It was her exit from Hades and that seems like a good place to start.”

“Are we even sure we can go in via an exit?” asked Nova.

Drax cracked his knuckles. “We’ll get in.”

“Breaking shit isn’t always the answer,” reprimanded the Corpsman.

Rocket cocked a brow. “What about a bomb? I could knock something up really quick.”

“The answer is still, no.”

Major Victory interjected. “Stop squabbling like children. We’ll find a way in,” his eyes met Richie’s. “And we’ll do it however we need to. We’re getting Persephone and her husband is going to be off-the-radar for good. Am I clear?”

Crystal sneered. “It might be an idea to get in without leaving a gaping, exposed hole into Hades though. If we’re actually going to be heroic and not just reckless. Saving Persephone, yes, that’s a priority. Not accidentally unleashing the hordes of hell onto the planet, I’d say that’s also a priority. If you’re going to lead, Major, then you need to separate your feelings from the reality of the situation. It’s important that decisions are made pragmatically.”

“You think you could do better, princess?”

She nodded. “I know I could. However, this is your mission. Unless you threaten the life of others on the planet, I won’t intervene.”

Major Victory stared her down, his mouth opening and closing as if he was amid formulating an argument but, when his mind had settled, he said. “Let’s just move forward.”

“Look,” called Cynosure, who proved to be genuinely helpful for the first time since he’d joined their ranks.

Each of the Guardians followed the direction he pointed until they noticed a scantily clad brunette moving toward them. Her eyes danced like the seas, her movements were as languid as a wave, and she greeted them with a smile as radiant as the sun. It didn’t take the geniuses among them to realise this was no mere mortal, they were in the presence of a goddess – although not one they’d met before. Their assumption of her divinity was correct, but she was no goddess, she was a naiad.

“Warriors,” she said in heavily accented English. It rested on her tongue as though she hadn’t spoken it in a century. “I foresaw that you would come to this place and I have prayed to all the Gods that it would be soon. The Damned Queen needs you, now more than ever before. Hades has withdrawn her power; her spells have weakened, and she is becoming frailer with each passing breeze.”

Major Victory stared. “And you are?”

“I am Kleodora, a naiad, and a former companion of Persephone,” said the water-dweller. “I failed her once before, and her life became the epic tragedy that is known across the world. I will not fail her again. I will take you to the gate of Hades.”

With little convincing, the septet of heroes moved through the antique ruins, ignoring the pillars and crumbling architecture in in pursuit of the naiad Kleodora. It seemed to stretch on forever before they reached the so-called exit from hell. It was little more than a hole in the coastal mountainside. They all exchanged glances as they knew words wouldn’t be enough to accurately describe how they were feeling. There was an air of tension, each reluctant to risk their lives by descending into the dark depths first, but also curiosity hung in the air.

“This is it,” Kleodora said at last. “I can go no further.”

Major Victory spun to thank her, but she had already disappeared. He moved on, the uncanny was no longer startling to him. Moving wordlessly towards the hole and, diving forward, he slid into it. When he called back and proved he hadn’t somehow disintegrated, the others followed. Crystal, Drax, Rocket, Cynosure, Mantis and Nova. Each took the plunge.

As they arrived, Major Victory dusted himself off. “Mantis, can you read the kingdom and see if you can find her?”

“This one can try,” she replied as her eyes shone vibrant green. Her telepathy stretched around her, blocking out the thoughts of her six teammates, as she focused and searched for the mind of the imprisoned goddess. In her mind, intangible shadowy forms stretched around her, but none seemed clear. The kingdom was running some mystical interference against her powers. As the green faded, she turned to her leader. “This realm is unclear. Shadows but nothing that can pinpoint her exactly. Magic is at work.”

Rocket snickered. “It’s a shame Persy was our magician.”

“What now?” enquired Nova.

Major Victory shrugged. “I guess we walk on.”

“We don’t even know where we’re going,” growled Cynosure dismissively.

“You have a map, Brae? The best we can do is walk down until we find some sort of path, it’s Hades, not Times Square. Just trust me.” It looked like Cynosure had something more to say, not the mention his confusion at what a ‘Times Square’ was, but Mantis’ hand brushed his shoulder and he closed his mouth. “Good. That’s settled then.”

Crystal’s hands ignited as she became the torch that the Guardians of the Galaxy followed. They marched on, the darkness elongating time, until they came to a crossroads. It was decided that they would have to split ways with Mantis leading a team of Drax and Cynosure, whilst Crystal, Rocket and Nova followed Major Victory. Each sub-team wished the other luck as they parted into the murkiness of Hades.

It was almost a soft purring in the distance that broke the silence between the threesome. Drax balled his fists, Cynosure drew his twin blades, both ready for a brawl. Mantis was more of a pacifist unless required, her eyes shone as she stretched her mind out into the distance. Searching for life forms that would be recognisable to her in the proximity. Persephone was still not on her radar. Yet, some of the shadows were becoming clearer the closer they moved. In the distance, she sensed a weeping woman with serpentine hair. The gorgon of myth, Medousa. Elsewhere, much closer, the purring and panting seemed to originate from a dog. Dogs. Her eyes faded as she looked directly ahead of them.

“Cerberus.”

Cynosure glared. “What?”

“The three-headed dog of Hades,” replied Drax, causing both to stare at him quizzically. “What? I was once a Terran. I’m more than a brawler.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Cynosure’s rebuttal went unanswered as the shadows ahead of them whirled and swayed. Cerberus formed before their eyes. His three gnashing jaws reached for them but the trio managed to dodge the incoming attack. The son of Bryldn struck first, the strike of his swords crashing against the creature’s pointed teeth. Spittle and saliva threatened to drench them all. Drax, to the far left, attempted to grasp the beast by the throat. It took three attempts before the furry neck was wrapped between his arms but even then, it sprung free. Mantis weaved and dodged Cerberus as he bit at her, she reached out with her mind but was bounced back as if she had hit a wall.

“This one can’t calm it,” she grimaced.

Drax bared his own teeth. “Then we will kill it.”

“For once, we’re in agreement,” snarled the Bryldn as he landed on his hind leg. Exposing the glistening twin blades, he was reminded of the many creatures on his own planet. Before he’d been a warrior, he’d been a hunter. Death was nothing more than a cog in the clock to Cynosure. “From each side?”

Drax nodded, curtly. “Let’s finish this.”

The men rushed forward, one weaving to the right and the other to the left as they dug their weapons into the skulls of the two outermost beads of the creature. They repeated their stabbing, determined not to be overwhelmed by any beast that was inferior in their own estimation. Mantis, however, stood ahead of the central face which howled in mourning for its lost siblings. A third of itself was all that remained, she could feel it. Instinctively, she reached out her exposed palm and pressed it firmly to the creature’s nose. In this weakened state, the Vietnamese hero was able to lock her mind onto its own and she forced a simple suggestion.

Bring us to Persephone.

Just as Cerberus had appeared, the creature was once again enveloped by a wisp of smoke that dragged Mantis, Drax and Cynosure through the aether. The men were thrown across a narrow hall lined with cells, Mantis watched as she removed her hand. She stalked toward them, leaving the guard-dog of Hades to whimper in its mournful way. It was then, at the end of the pathway, she saw a cell that was bathed in a deific light. They had found her. Mantis’ pace sped up as she grasped at the cage’s bars and stared down upon the dishevelled princess.

Persephone almost choked as she spoke. “Man . . . Mantis?”

“The Guardians have come,” replied Mantis triumphantly.

Major Victory, Crystal, Rocket and Nova entered a spherical room adorned with the skulls of those unfortunate enough to have incurred the wrath of Hades, and of his siblings and kin upon the glistening Mount Olympus. It was easy to forget that despite their beauty and woven intricacies, the Greek myths were also filled with tragedy, horror and divine punishment. There was no sight of Persephone, but the room was not vacant. Sat atop the black marble throne was the Horned King, the Ruler of the Underworld, Hades. As he peered towards them, eyes as dark as the depths of the Earth in which he roamed barely concealed by the metallic mask, it was if they were insignificant to the ancient being. Heroes had come and gone, trespassing through his hallways for centuries, and now, their presence simply bored him.

“Why have you come to the sacred halls of Hades, travellers?” he asked, almost as if it was expected of him. It was a lie to say that his mere presence wasn’t intimidating but nothing about his demeanour carried this sentiment through.

“We have come to rescue Persephone,” said Major Victory clearly as he moved to the centre of the room, the primary location of light against the flickering candles that struggled to be consumed by the shadows.

Hades laughed heartily.

Rocket, with all the grace of an elephant in a china shop, stomped forward. “We ain’t kidding, horn head. We’re here for the girl and we ain’t leaving without her.”

“Persephone is not a prisoner, you fool,” snarled the King of the Underworld. “She is a product of her own design. Persephone is mine for six months of the year, without repercussion, and she will spend them in Hades in whatever way is deemed to be fit. If she can’t be trusted to uphold the bargains of her betters, then she’ll spend those months in shackles until she can be more reasonable.” His words became pointed. “You meddle in the affairs of gods now, children. This is not your place to interfere.”

Crystal sighed. “Yet, somehow, I feel like we’re going to be interfering anyway.”

Before she’d even finished her utterances, the hot-headed Major Victory did what he did best. He struck out in violence, hurling a psychometric blast of energy towards the God. With a wave of his bony hand, Hades destroyed it with no damage to himself. He stood, towering above them all at over eight foot. Taking flight, Major Victory wasn’t deterred. He threw a couple more blasts as he swerved through the air and landed behind the God, finally striking him and knocking him forward several steps. Acting on impulse, Nova joined the fray with a series of golden blasts.

Hades, mildly annoyed but not injured, swatted Nova into the left wall before turning and grabbing Major Victory in his giant grasp.

The God turned to find himself faced with the elemental Inhuman Crystal and the pint-sized Rocket Raccoon. The rodent fired his makeshift weapon and created an explosion, bursting to life upon the god’s shoulder. Still, he maintained his grasp of the time-displaced hero. The fiery-maned Crystal, for her part, created a vortex of wind between her hands. The elements had always bent to her whim, making her perhaps the second strongest of the Royal Family of Attilan – beaten only by her cousin and brother-in-law, Black Bolt. Now, she used them to make her point.

“Let him go, Hades,” demanded the princess. “We’re taking Persephone and we’re leaving.”

Hades shook his head. “No, mortal. You aren’t.”

Using Major Victory as a projectile. He crashed into the princess, taking them both down, but not before she was able to thrust the hurricane forward. It spun wildly, catching Hades in it’s centre as he pushed against it. Rocket continued to fire but the winds caught his attack and sent it upwards on the currents. With a violent swipe of his hands, Hades destabilised the hurricane and caused it to extinguish. He unleashed a low, guttural roar upon them as his frustrations overwhelmed him.

“Stop.”

Her command echoed as all eyes in the room turned to see the Goddess of Springtime and Queen of the Underworld, Persephone, stride into the room. She was flanked by Mantis, Cynosure and Drax the Destroyer.

“This ends now Hades,” she continued defiantly. “I have been your prized possession for long enough.”

“The agreements of Gods are not bent to the whims of petulant goddesses,” rebuked the King of the Underworld.

Major Victory stumbled to his feet. “She’s not alone.”

The Guardians of the Galaxy stood behind the Goddess Persephone in a show of strength. Each took a position of offense, ready to launch into battle at a moment’s notice. Hades wasn’t afraid, he summoned his dark magic, generating balls of cold-fire in his palms as he looked down upon them arrogantly. Major Victory and Nova took flight, slamming forward as they swerved around the God’s head like flies on a carcass. Crystal followed their lead, sliding forward as the very earth heeded her command and shot forward, cracking and writhing as it destabilised the mighty Olympian. It fell next to Drax and Cynosure, wielding their bladed weapons, as they used the opportunity charge onto his fallen body and drag their swords and daggers through his durable flesh.

Even God’s could bleed.

Mantis and Rocket had no need to act, Persephone walked ahead of them as she came face-to-face with her husband. The deific glow was brighter now than before. The weakening of Hades seemed to transform her into something stronger entirely, she knelt beside him as his assault continued. She remembered how his sweet words and candied lies had led her to her constant turmoil, how he’d given her everything and nothing for millennia, and in that moment – she showed them exactly how she’d earned the moniker of Dread Persephone. Golden locks of hair transitioned in a shimmer, becoming black as night, and peach coloured skin quickly paled to alabaster. The maiden had become the dreaded. Her hands caressed his cheek as she leant forward, placing a gentle kiss upon the fallen King of the Underworld’s lips.

“Sleep.”

His body seemed to flake upon her enchantment, dispersing into the dead earth he ruled, until he was no more and only the Guardians of the Galaxy and Dread Persephone stood in the hollow halls of Hades.

“Is he dead?” asked Nova, slack-jawed as he landed.

Dread Persephone shook her head, her voice lacked body, almost like an echo. “Not dead. Like so many of us, Hades is a concept, and he cannot truly be killed whilst belief in him remains. He can be contained. As he once bound me to this dreadful place, so I have bound him.” She looked at her cold hands with emotionless hands. “Although, it has cost me. Hades must be ruled, and I am it’s Queen.”

She paused, breaking from examining herself, as she returned her attention to the Guardians of the Galaxy.

“You came to rescue me when I needed you, despite the damage I caused. I truly lived up to my namesake as the Dreaded Destroyer, long before I ever became the creature of myth,” she sighed, but she offered what could loosely be considered a smile. Her beauty remained present, but it was somehow faded. “I am grateful for all you’ve risked in coming here and I waive the consequences of doing so. You are all allowed to leave.”

“Can’t you come with us?” enquired Major Victory.

The Queen of the Underworld shook her head. “My place is here now. Until Hades can regain his power and free himself, I must rule in his stead.” She touched Major Victory’s face, a reminder of the bond they’d once briefly shared. “Do not worry. I do so under my own terms. I chose this role.”

“I wish we could all get what we wanted as easily,” he resigned himself to the difficulties and failures he’d faced since he’d returned to this time. His inadequacy almost reached breaking point as she observed him.

“I see what’s in your heart, Vance, and with my gratitude, I grant it to you,” she said.

Dread Persephone leant forward, as she’d done with Hades shortly before, and brushed her lips against the time-travelling hero’s.

“I give you what you most desire, Vance,” whispered Persephone as she broke from the kiss, her eyes shone with the sheer magnitude of her newfound powers. “Peace.”

Before the weary eyes of all gathered, the goddess grazed her hand across his chest and clamped down on his abdomen. Her nails caught at his muscular physique, but Major Victory didn’t scream, there was no resistance, he merely smiled upon the goddess’ composed features. As magical energies crackled around her fingertips, her hair flew in the breeze of power, and with a tug of her hand, bending her elbow backwards, Persephone – the Queen of the Underworld, of Hades – tore the luminescent soul from the body of Major Victory. With a final kiss and a tear slipping across her cheek, the goddess released her grasp and his soul shot skyward until he passed through the rocks above and disappeared from their sight. Persephone, ignoring the expletives and cries from the Guardians, caught the body left behind and laid it gracefully, carefully upon the stone altar before her throne.

“Worry not, Guardians of the Galaxy,” soothed the Queen of the Underworld, Persephone. “Vance Astro as you know him has now met an eternal peace amongst the glorious Elysian Fields. Love, although involved, was not the desire of his heart so much as peace. I have granted him that and for the first time in many months, Vance has found his immortal bliss.” She smiled softly. “And now, my gift to you.”

She outstretched her hands as the rocked roof above them screeched under her power as their eyes deceived them. When the Guardians of the Galaxy could once again focus, they realised that Dread Persephone had freed them from her realm and returned them to the shorelines of Cumae. It was also clear that she’d done so without the accompaniment of the fallen Major Victory, he’d remained with his newly found peace.

ABOARD ROAMER #305

THE VASTNESS OF SPACE

“It ain’t often I’m lost for words.”

Rocket had never been much of a team player, his allegiance to the Guardians of the Galaxy had been perennially happenstance at best. He stood by their side because it suited him to do so, more so than being on his own or tied to the space-pirates known as the Starjammers. He realised that none of what he’d experienced or been through wouldn’t have been possible if not for the time-travelling Vance Astro and his headstrong plan to save his future. Even when he’d failed to do so, Vance had held them together. He was the glue with which the team had formed and now, he was gone. Just like Bug, Beta Ray Bill, and Persephone. Rocket, Mantis and Drax where the last three musketeers from that first incident and, unlike the others who held their own agendas for being there, Rocket wasn’t sure why he still was. He’d had a good thing going on Igrinar, and now all he had was an uncomfortable emptiness inside of him.

Uncharacteristically, Rocket hung his head.

“Should we feel good about what happened down there?” asked the Inhuman princess. “We went to save her, and we did but she killed one of us.”

“She granted him peace,” interjected Mantis.

Crystalia shrugged. “By killing him. I’m not sure I see the difference.”

“What’s done is done,” answered Cynosure. “We can’t change that no matter how anyone feels about it. The real question is where do we go from here?”

It was a question that hit each of them. Rocket had already been contemplating his position, but the others were now brought into the same train of thought.

“This has been a rocky road but when you look at it, there’s a lot of good that could be done. We’re all here for a reason,” Richard Rider monologued. “Crystal, you wanted help to find your daughter and I wanted to bring down Gorani. Cynosure, you wanted to carry on a legacy.” He focused on the original three remaining members. “You got swept up in a failing mission and then stuck around to fix the mess. The Guardians should continue, they should do what they set out to do.”

He exhaled heavily.

“Any objections?”

The Guardians of the Galaxy simply stared at him in silence.

“Good,” smiled Nova, his eyes surveying each of them before resting on the uneasy face of the Inhuman princess. “If we’re doing this, from now on, we do it my way.”

Without awaiting complaint or argument, Nova took control of the vessel and Roamer #305 shot further into the depths of space.

KNOTES FROM KNOWHERE.

Started: December 2017

Finished: December 2020

Wow. It’s been awhile. I resigned from the site and from fanfiction in 2015 so that I could place all my emphasis on my undergraduate degree in London. I mean, moving to a new country and all those deadlines was going to be a lot more work than I could surely anticipate, right? Well, I haven’t quite finished my degree just yet but as I seen Hunter was interested in getting the site back to where it was I thought, what a perfect time to quickly finish at least some of the loose threads that I had planned in 2015. And so, I’ve integrated the previous storylines and the loose ends, primarily Persephone and Rocket Raccoon. I like to think it’s been tied neatly into a bow in terms of those characters and the finalisation of the original modern-day Guardians of the Galaxy, at least those that are considered as such by Marvel Omega.

I’m not saying I don’t have more stories with these characters to tell and that’s the reason I didn’t end this annual with them splitting ways, at least not most them. I would say that in my time away from Marvel Omega, I have learned to hone my writing a little. I’ve been working on original work and, as I did when I was a full-time writer for the site, I liked to take the storylines of familiar characters in a somewhat different place. The ending of Guardians of the Galaxy Annual #1 was perfect for me in that regard. It was sending the Guardians to Earth, as opposed to another planet they could haphazardly annihilate, and it had them facing a literal God.

I feel as if James Gunn’s Guardians of the Galaxy movies have allowed me to see what the Guardians are about, a ragtag group of amoral space pirates, and in that way, I feel as though Dino’s original idea of calling this team Avengers Infinity – all those years ago in 2009 – would have been a better fit for this team. They were reckless and endangered those around them, primarily because of my inability to write back in ’09, but they were certainly always heroes and are even more so now with the changes to the cast that have happened.

I’ll be completing the remaining loose ends starting with Guardians of the Galaxy #13, paving the way for Tobias Christopher to segue into the short gap with his new take on the Guardians of the Galaxy.

Paige McMahon

December 2017