As Soren stepped into the bar, the stench hit him like a wall.
Thick, choking smoke, spilled liquor, pungent sweat, a dizzying cocktail of perfumes and something else... something organic that made his stomach tighten.
His nose wrinkled in disgust.
The Realm of Knowhere, or rather, the place of no existence, wasn't so different from the darker corners of Earth. This bar felt like the alleyway of a slum wearing a mask of neon light.
Pounding basslines shook the walls, the music a chaotic blend of alien synth and industrial noise.
The crowd was wild, twisting bodies, twitching limbs, species of every shape and hue losing themselves in the sound, in the drink, in the oblivion of it all.
Soren stepped up to the bar and flagged down the first person he saw, a woman with heavy, smeared makeup and glimmering gold chains hanging off her shoulders.
She had the hardened smile of someone who'd seen too much and stopped caring a long time ago.
Without a word, Soren tossed an amethyst coin onto the counter.
It clinked like a gunshot.
The maid's eyes widened. Her hand froze mid-wipe of a grimy glass.
She snatched the coin quickly and inspected it under the flickering light. Her expression shifted instantly, from bored to bright.
"Well now… aren't you generous." She purred, leaning forward with a practiced smile.
"Where is the collector?"
Her low-cut uniform slipped just enough to reveal the swell of her chest, and she gave a teasing tilt of her head.
"The Collector rarely sees guests, but if it's fun you're after, sir… I can give you a night you won't forget."
Her tongue slowly traced her upper lip as she brushed a hand along Soren's arm, suggestive and confident.
Soren didn't even blink.
"I said, where's the Collector?"
A pressure dropped in the air, suffocating.
Soren's aura pulsed once, quiet, but powerful. The woman froze mid-seduction.
Her pupils dilated. She recoiled as if burned, stumbling back a step.
"Y-Yes, sir!" She stammered.
"I… I'll inform the back immediately. But, um, please understand, the Collector chooses who he sees…"
"Then tell him this." Soren, letting just a hint of flame flicker along his fingertips, "If he doesn't want to see me, I'll tear this place apart, brick by brick."
She dropped everything. Not just the act, but the pretense of calm.
Without another word, she vanished into the door behind the bar, leaving the coin behind in her haste.
Soren turned slightly to the guide who had brought him here. The man looked pale and nervous, hands wringing.
"W-Well… I've done my part. I brought you to the Collector's place. As for getting an audience… that's out of my control."
He hesitated, then chuckled weakly.
"Ah, about the agreed-upon fee… I'll just take half. Half's fair, right?"
Soren didn't even reply. He tossed a few more amethyst coins into the guide's hands like spare change.
"Go."
The man bowed several times, backing away quickly. He was gone before Soren turned around again.
He didn't have to wait long.
Minutes later, the maid returned, no longer alone.
She was flanked by three figures, tall and cleanly dressed in dark, high-collared coats with silver-thread insignias stitched across their chests.
These weren't bar staff. They were Collectors' men. Everything from the way they moved to the way they scanned the room screamed high-end enforcement.
The one in front stepped forward and gave Soren a slight nod.
"Sir,"
"The Collector has taken note of your… enthusiasm."
"I wasn't being enthusiastic." Soren replied. "I was being clear."
The man's lips twitched.
"Of course. Please, follow us. You're expected. But I must remind you—once inside, you play by the Collector's rules."
"I'll hear them from him."
The group didn't argue. They turned and began leading Soren through the side hallway, away from the pounding music and haze of the main floor.
So, they had been watching him for a while now.
He had felt their eyes before they ever stepped out, hidden cameras, motion sensors, low-level psychic scans.
They thought they were subtle. They weren't. Thanks to his Perception, Soren could hear anyone in the bar as clearly as if they whispered beside him.
They led Soren through a corridor behind the bar and stopped at a sleek, obsidian-paneled elevator.
One of them tapped in a complex passcode, six characters followed by a biometric scan.
The doors hissed open.
The moment Soren stepped inside, the world changed. The bass, the screaming, the mindless laughter, all of it disappeared.
A cool silence enveloped him.
He exhaled slowly. For the first time since he entered the place, his brow relaxed.
"Peace at last."
The descent didn't take long. The elevator halted with a soft ding, and the doors slid open, revealing a gentle amber light.
The atmosphere was immediately different.
The escorting attendants stepped aside and gestured inward with respectful grace.
"Sir, welcome. Please, this way."
Soren walked forward with effortless confidence. Stage fright was for people with something to prove.
He had come here on his own terms.
Beyond the threshold lay a grand hall, silent and opulent. Crystal fixtures sparkled in the soft light.
Intricate alien sculptures lined the walls, some floating, some shifting shape gently as if alive. Everything in the room whispered of wealth, age, and power.
And in the center of it all, standing beside a floating chaise of gold and obsidian, was him.
The man's hair was slicked back into a sharp wave, half black, half white, the contrast stark and unnatural. A neatly trimmed goatee framed his mouth, and his tailored coat shimmered with threads of silver filigree. He looked human, almost.
A middle-aged scholar from Earth, if not for the stillness in his aura… a terrifying stillness that only came from beings who'd seen the death of stars.
The attendant stepped forward.
"Sir, allow me to introduce the esteemed Taneleer Tivan… known across galaxies as the Collector."
Soren gave a slight nod, not quite a bow, but enough to acknowledge the title.
The Collector studied him for a long moment. No one spoke.
He squinted slightly, as if trying to read a book with missing pages.
"Curious," He said at last, voice smooth as glass. "You show… nothing."
"That's the idea," Soren replied, eyes locked on him.
A twitch of interest passed over the Collector's face.
"Fascinating. Most who bluster at my door are puffed-up fools eager to bargain with glittering junk. But you… I heard the noise you made upstairs."
"You're not just another loud mortal."
He leaned back ever so slightly, eyes narrowing.
"So tell me, Earthling. What brings you to my vault?"
Soren smiled coolly.
"Soren Macaluso. And yes, I'm from Earth. Word travels, even out here—your collection is said to rival that of kings and ancient beings."
"I figured… maybe there's something in it for me."
The Collector's pleasant facade dimmed just slightly.
"You want to browse my collection?" He repeated, a faint trace of contempt slipping into his voice.
"Something like that."
Tivan folded his hands.
"My collection spans ten worlds, and includes objects that predate entire civilizations. Some of them are civilizations. People come here to offer me treasures, not to request them."
"So unless you've come bearing a cosmic relic or a fragment of eternity, I suggest you temper your expectations."
His tone was polite… but colder now.
Soren wasn't angry at the Collector's tone.
His interest in the Collector's vault wasn't just about curiosity. Part of him was intrigued by the rare artifacts, cursed relics, and forgotten technology.
Collector hoarded like a dragon. But the real reason?
The Orb, what most beings didn't realize was actually the Power Gem, one of the Infinity Stones.
Soren knew Peter Quill and his ragtag crew would escape. And if they were smart and desperate, they'd come straight to Knowhere next, looking to cut a deal.
That was Soren's window.
Because when it came to the Infinity Gems, Soren was determined.
They weren't optional.
They were HIS.
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream