Soren stepped off his ship, the faint glow of the Kree Accuser insignia still visible on the hull.
Around him, criminals, scavengers, smugglers, and mercenaries all froze mid-step, eyes narrowing. Some tensed, hands drifting toward blasters, until they noticed he was alone.
Just one man? With that flag?
The tension bled out of the crowd like air from a punctured hull.
Soren took a slow look around the grime-caked, neon-lit settlement nestled inside the severed head of the Celestial.
Alien machinery groaned above, drilling into ancient bone and spinal fluid. He kept his tone casual.
"I'm looking for the Collector."
"Anyone want to point me in the right direction?"
"…"
A few people exchanged glances, but no one spoke.
Then a group of red-skinned brutes, faces marked by tribal tattoos and old burns, laughed mockingly. The largest one, with tusks curling from his jaw, spat to the side.
"You want to see the Collector?" He said with a sneer.
"You don't show up empty-handed to his doors, little man. Unless you want to end up in a jar on his wall."
Soren raised an eyebrow. "He wants a treasure?"
"Everyone knows that,"
"You don't walk into the Collector's hall unless you've got something rare. Something he doesn't already own. You think he's running a tea shop?"
Laughter erupted around him. Soren's eyes narrowed, but he stayed calm.
"I see." He muttered, then pulled something from his belt, a pouch that clinked softly. He opened it and let a few glittering amethyst coins spill into his palm.
He conveniently looted Kratt and is squad for them.
"I don't have a treasure. But I've got this."
The jeers stopped immediately. Dozens of eyes locked on the shimmering coins. Each one worth a thousand credits, enough to buy weapons, passage off-world, maybe even a new face if you needed it.
A silence swept the area.
"I'll take you!"
"I know the way, only three coins!"
"Two! And I'll get you a personal audience!"
"Just one! No one knows this place like me!"
The mob surged toward Soren like flies to blood, eager and desperate. He watched with cold amusement as they nearly trampled each other for a shot at the reward.
"Money makes ghosts grind…" Soren thought grimly. "Even in the stars."
But before he could pick a guide~
"BACK OFF."
The air trembled. Every single thug froze. The crowd parted like a tide, and from it emerged a towering figure, nearly three meters tall, skin the color of dried blood, and horns curling from his skull like the crown of a demon.
Even the loudest mercs went dead quiet.
Soren calmly pocketed the coins and looked up at the newcomer without flinching.
From the way the others reacted, Soren immediately understood:
"You fly under Ronan's banner," He said, voice gravelly. "But you're no Kree. What's your business with the Collector?"
This man ruled here, not with titles, but with fear.
He towered over Soren and looked down with the smug confidence of someone used to getting what he wanted.
When Soren casually tossed a few glowing amethyst coins in the air, the brute snatched them mid-flight, inspecting the shimmering currency like a dragon appraising tribute.
"Hmph." The red giant grinned, fangs bared. "This?"
"Consider it a protection fee, boy. You've paid to keep your bones intact. Now roll along before I change my mind."
The crowd buzzed faintly. Some smirked. Some pitied the newcomer. Others narrowed their eyes, curious.
After all, the man had stepped off an Accuser-class battleship, but here he was, getting shaken down like a greenhorn.
Soren's expression didn't change, but his tone turned icy.
"You take my money... and do nothing?" He said, voice sharp enough to slice glass. "Do you even know the kind of consequences that brings?"
The brute stopped mid-turn. His steps froze. Then he slowly spun back around, eyes burning with offense.
He stepped forward again, closer than before.
"Consequences?" The red-skinned tyrant growled, his breath hot and heavy.
"Let me be real clear. I don't care if you're Ronan's pet. In Knowhere, I'm the rule. I make the gods bow when they pass through here."
He leaned in, fangs bared in a toothy sneer.
"Now walk away. While you still have legs to walk."
Soren gave a small, humorless smile.
"You talk too much."
A flash of blue light erupted between them.
Before the brute could react, his body launched backward like a meteor. He smashed into the crowd with a bone-rattling crash, sending people flying like leaves in a storm.
He skidded across the cracked floor, leaving a groove carved into the metal, until he finally came to a halt in a groaning heap.
The onlookers were frozen in stunned silence.
Soren didn't even lower his hand.
With a flick of his fingers, the amethyst coins that had spilled onto the floor lifted into the air, glowing faintly as they floated back into his palm.
"Let me be clear…one last time."
He turned to face the stunned crowd.
"Anyone here who can take me to the Collector... these coins are yours."
He glanced toward the groaning heap of red muscle on the ground, still twitching.
"But if you try to pull what that idiot just did, you're going to leave here in a body bag."
"Or worse… no bag."
A wave of unseen pressure rolled across the area, like gravity bending under his presence. The crowd didn't just fall silent, they bowed their heads instinctively, breath catching in their throats.
It wasn't force.
It was the language of power, spoken clearly by someone who knew he was dangerous.
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream