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*****
"You go on, I understand. I'll think about it."
"Mm. You can come back anytime."
"Goodbye, Thor."
Mike hung up and pressed a finger lightly to his brow.
After the White House incident, Thor had made a quick trip to Kent Star before returning to Earth to canoodle with his girlfriend. Before leaving, he conscientiously came to bid Mike farewell—and passed along an invitation from Asgard.
That invitation…
Mike rubbed his chin and muttered, "Feels a bit… less than proper. I'll table it for later."
Decision made, he looked over at Raven, who was sitting with her eyes closed, music in her ears, and smiled.
"Why are you staring at me?"
Sensing his gaze, Raven opened her eyes and gave him a lazy look.
"What do you want for lunch?"
Mike asked as his eyes flicked—purely "by accident"—to her belly.
Hey there, little one. Bigger than before. Squirming around like a tiny frog in there.
"You're peeking at the baby with your powers again!"
Raven glared at him.
At this point, Mike "checked in" eight times a day at minimum.
"Heh."
Mike chuckled, his eyes bright with undisguised anticipation.
He had never experienced this feeling—waiting for a life to enter his own. He was already father to four, yes, but… none of those had this part of the process. Those had been more "pay on delivery," with zero participation in the "manufacturing" phase…
As Mike stepped into the kitchen, Raven licked her lips, then irritably patted her face.
She'd put on weight recently.
All Mike's fault—he made the nutritional meals way too good.
Some fretted over food that was too delicious. Others, meanwhile, were struggling with food they weren't sure qualified as food at all…
Out in space, aboard Star-Lord's Milano.
Erik stirred the "porridge" in his bowl. Well—porridge adjacent. Not made of rice, but of small white insect eggs. The taste was… tolerable. The psychology? Less so.
He glanced at the others in the Guardians and watched them slurp with gusto, and his brows drew together.
"Eat. It's good," Rocket said, flicking an egg off his whisker, pinching it between two fingers, and popping it into his mouth. He bit down and a spurt of white juice burst across his teeth.
Sort of like those popping boba in milk tea…
Erik muttered to himself, then slid the whole dish toward Rocket. "Knock yourself out."
After a few days together, he'd learned these folks were extremely… flexible where cuisine was concerned.
Once in a while, he could tolerate it. Every meal?
Dad!
I miss you!
You should've sent Charles instead!
Erik cried inwardly.
Next planet, he swore he'd buy something—anything—normal to eat. "Normal" would be enough.
He sighed.
"Guys! We're being targeted."
Star-Lord's voice tightened as a massive ship leapt into realspace ahead of them.
"Ravagers?" Gamora dropped into the pilot's chair, peering out at the hulking craft. Then she snapped her eyes to Star-Lord. "What did you do this time?"
"Why me? Can't it be Drax? Or Rocket? Or you?" he protested.
"I handled my problems," Gamora said, flat as a blade.
Star-Lord shrugged and pointed through the canopy. "Then you're mislabeling it. Not Ravagers. Those are pirates—the no-code kind."
"Ravagers and pirates are different?" Rocket sneered. "Aren't they both scum?"
"Ravagers have a code and a chain of command. Pirates don't."
Star-Lord's voice dropped. "We should bolt. If we drift any closer, getting away's gonna be rough."
With that much firepower, if they opened up, the Milano would be shredded.
The others nodded.
They weren't about to get vaporized by some random encounter.
"Wait."
Erik pinched his chin, eyeing the giant ship. "Space pirates… they probably have money, right?"
"Who knows? Judging by that hull, I'd say… not broke," Star-Lord said, leaning on experience.
"Then let's rob them. I didn't bring cash when I left."
Erik clenched a fist, decision snapping into place, a spark of excitement lighting his eyes.
He'd been playing Magneto so long he'd been bottling himself up.
Now that he was out here, his true nature leaked straight through.
"R-rob… them?" The Guardians all choked on the words.
"Buddy, don't joke. At this distance we'd be space dust before we got close," Star-Lord said, rolling his eyes.
"Space dust? You flatter yourself," Rocket murmured, twisting the knife.
Star-Lord shot him a look and pressed on, "Even if, by a miracle, we got in close, cracking that armor would take time—and they'd blast us to slag long before then."
Gamora nodded her agreement.
Mantis's hand settled—hesitantly—on Erik's shoulder. "That's true, but…" She frowned. "Why do I feel him getting even more excited?"
Star-Lord's face blanched. "Don't even think about it! I'm not risking everyone's lives."
"Relax. This isn't a risk," Erik said. "Trust me."
He grinned before anyone could argue. "Besides, you don't have a choice."
His finger twitched—and the ship fell under his control.
In a chorus of panicked yelps, the Milano angled and streaked straight for the pirate cruiser.
Out there, the pirates noticed the approaching gnat. Compared to their behemoth, the Milano was nothing; they had thirty-plus small craft like it in their bay. They had two thoughts:
Surrender.
Or lunatic.
It didn't matter. The moment they detected the Milano, they'd locked it. Destruction was the only ending.
"Haha! Swat that bug!"
"Hope they don't wet themselves when the first salvo hits!"
"Lock 'em! Fire!"
Whoops and laughs rose as they took aim—betting on who would land the first strike on the "bug."
In the next instant, a rain of energy lanced toward the Milano.
"We're dead! We're dead!" Star-Lord squealed, crushing Gamora in a hug.
Gamora blushed, then slapped him across the face.
He looked wounded—but didn't let go.
Mantis glanced at Drax, then Rocket. Both stared back with such feral glares that she recoiled and hugged herself instead.
Then, in the very next second, Erik's flying left them speechless.
Under his hands, the Milano moved like a fish threading a waterfall of light—slipping and skipping through the barrage. Not a single beam touched her hull.
"This is insane. This is the legendary 'man and ship as one,'" Star-Lord breathed, awe and envy flickering in his eyes.
Onward—straight through—Erik laughed, boyish joy bubbling up as if he were back at a childhood arcade, guiding a pixel ship through bullet hell.
Except this was far more thrilling than any game.
As they closed the distance, the pirate fire thickened—so dense that forward progress became impossible.
The Guardians were trembling in a group hug, staring into a wall of light ready to swallow them whole. Erik, dissatisfied, eyed the cruiser and flicked out his hand.
"Ha!"
With a low shout, dents puckered across the pirate hull like metal gooseflesh. A whole cluster of gun ports crushed inward in a single squeal of tortured steel, mangled into scrap.
A yawning gap appeared in the curtain of fire.
Erik nodded, feathered the controls, and slipped the Milano to point-blank range.
"Hu… hah…" The Guardians panted, shock still skittering across their faces.
"Did—did you see that?" Rocket jabbed a claw at the crumpled section of armor.
"I'm not blind," Star-Lord muttered. He looked at Erik. "That was you?"
Erik nodded and pointed at the ship. "Let's go inside."
"We're actually going?" Star-Lord squeaked.
"Of course."
Erik arched a brow.
"Our guns will need time to breach that plating—and they're launching fighters," Star-Lord said, jabbing at the cruiser's belly.
Sure enough, swarms of gnats poured out.
"No need. Won't take long," Erik replied. He reached toward the hull and squeezed.
In a chorus of gasps, a huge section of the outer wall tore open like foil. Erik banked the Milano through the wound, then flicked his wrist, and the torn bulkhead sealed behind them—
—as if the door had always been there.
"That's obscene," Rocket whispered.
The others nodded, equally dazed.
"Quick! Attack!" Pirates charged the bay, weapons bared.
The Guardians reflexively drew theirs, glanced at Erik's unruffled calm—then, just as calmly, put theirs away.
They wouldn't be needed.
"Trash! Behold our—" Rocket shouted, then tugged on Erik's pant leg, beaming—perhaps a bit sycophantically. "Do your thing, big guy!"
"Haha."
"Gladly," Erik said.
He closed his fist—and the pirates' guns snapped under invisible hands. Bodies slammed to the deck in a clatter of boots and curses.
Another thought and the shattered weapons stretched and reshaped—slender metal bands tightening into collars around the pirates' throats.
"Let's go."
With the Guardians still slack-jawed, Erik strode down the ramp. They scrambled after him.
A wave of metal tugged the collared pirates along the floor in his wake.
Corridor by corridor, he collected them. In minutes, the number trailing behind crept into triple digits.
The Guardians thrust out their chests as they marched, wearing expressions that screamed We are extremely formidable.
Soon enough, Erik had steamrolled the lot—corralling every last pirate and dragging them before their leader. One more gesture, and the "captain" wore a collar too.
Species, shapes, skin tones—Erik's eyes widened at the variety.
The Guardians, following in his shadow, had their eyes opened as well.
They had a new appreciation for Erik's power—and a deeper respect for the might of the Kent family.
Erik looked over the pirates—each life cinched neatly in his palm—and smiled.
"I don't want to hurt you."
Yeah, right.
The pirates stared at the bands on their necks, despair in their eyes, and still managed grateful little nods.
Brutal as they were, they weren't stupid.
When someone held your life in their hand, you learned fast what to say—and what not to do.
"Now I'll give you a chance to buy your lives."
Erik crooked a finger. A chair skated across the deck and settled behind him.
He sat lightly and beckoned. "Come. Pay up and purchase your survival."
"Bah! Over my dead—"
Cre-eek.
Before the pirate could finish, his collar shrank three sizes at Erik's smile.
"Whoops," Erik said mildly. "Slipped."
Like hell you did.
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Erik nodded, satisfied. "Let's begin."
He glanced at Rocket. "Help collect."
Rocket's eyes lit. "On it!"
"Wait! I can collect too!" Star-Lord raised his hand like a schoolboy.
Gamora's fingertips brushed the hilt at her waist. She smiled at them both. "You two were just about to offer me the honors, weren't you?"
They swallowed in unison and nodded.
Gamora sauntered up to the first pirate.
He blurted a number, voice shaking. Gamora leaned forward, voice a silked threat. "Show some sincerity. Or you die. Or do you believe your life is only worth that much?"
He snuck a glance at Erik—still smiling pleasantly—and trembled. He raised his bid in a rush.
Gamora's eyes stayed cold until the price reached something she liked. Then she straightened his collar for him and murmured, "Good boy."
She drew her blade with a flick, eyes gleaming as she surveyed the line like a queen at court. "Next! Move it, trash! Or my sword won't be polite!"
"That's Thanos's adopted daughter!" Star-Lord hollered from behind. "She's a demon! I can vouch for it!"
Thanos?
At that name, a ripple ran through the pirates. Bids soared in a clamor of voices.
An hour later, Erik and the Guardians left the pirate ship thoroughly satisfied—and set course for the location of another pirate vessel they'd "heard about."
It seemed they had discovered a brand-new wealth cheat code…
(End of Chapter)