Staring at the unconscious man sprawled on the ancient temple floor, Peter felt a pang of embarrassment. While he hadn't used his full strength, he had certainly hit the guy harder than he would a common super-criminal. An ordinary person's head would have been knocked clean off. Fortunately, Star-Lord was still breathing. Though he was face-down with his butt raised, as if offering a target, he was definitely alive.
Peter let out a sigh of relief. This guy must have a pretty solid physique, he thought.
At that moment, the man let out a groan and slowly began to stir, one hand moving to clutch his head. "Where is this… who am I?" he mumbled, his memory clearly fragmented from the blow. Seeing Peter standing over him, he looked up with dazed, questioning eyes.
Over the comms, Ben's voice crackled to life, thick with amusement. "Peter, tell him his name is Owen, and he's a keeper at Jurassic World who specializes in raising velociraptors."
Peter blinked, utterly confused, but relayed the message anyway. "Your name is Owen," he said slowly. "You're the velociraptor keeper from Jurassic World. All these little guys… you raise them." He gestured to the small, lizard-like creatures scurrying around, some of which lay dead, covered in a black, tar-like substance.
Star-Lord looked at the carnage, then back at Peter, uncertain. But deep in the recesses of his scrambled mind, the idea of being accompanied by dinosaurs felt strangely… right. Is it true? he wondered. "Is my name… Owen?"
Then, his survival instincts kicked in. "I don't believe you!" he shouted, leaping to his feet. He whipped an elemental gun from his hip and fired several blasts at Peter.
As the son of a Celestial, even one whose powers were dormant, Star-Lord was far from fragile. His gear, while not exactly high-end, was also packed with some surprising black-market tech.
"Don't be impulsive!" Peter yelped. His spider-sense screamed, and he twisted his body with impossible agility, dodging every shot. He raised a hand, plastering Star-Lord's face with a thick glob of webbing, then slapped an obedience disk onto his chest.
"Shock him! Shock him now!" Venom's voice hissed in his mind. "This guy is either a Kree or one of that purple potato's goons! Fry him!"
Peter considered it for a split second and agreed. He pressed the button. Star-Lord's body immediately began to twitch and convulse as if he were having an epileptic seizure, the neurotoxin overwhelming his system. Peter did a quick backflip, landing lightly on top of the man's back in a pose reminiscent of Itachi Uchiha perched on a telephone pole.
"You're not Kree, so who are you?" he demanded. "One of Thanos's subordinates?"
"Who the hell is Thanos?!" Star-Lord sputtered through the spasms. He had never heard the name before, but he seared it into his memory, swearing a solemn oath that if he ever met this "Thanos," he would punch him squarely in the face.
"Huh? Venom, you idiot, you got it wrong again!" Peter quickly deactivated the disk but left Star-Lord webbed up. His spider-sense had been blaring the moment the man drew his weapon; those elemental guns were incredibly powerful. It was like his opponent was carrying Cyclops's optic blasts on his hips.
"So, who are you?" Peter asked again.
Even tied up like a sausage, Star-Lord's bravado remained intact. "You dare ask who I am? My name would scare you to death!" He wasn't entirely lying. In the mercenary circles of the Void, Star-Lord had a certain notoriety, especially from his time running with Yondu's crew. The Ravagers were a pack of infamous rogues, hyenas who even lions would think twice about crossing.
"I'm Star-Lord!" he declared, assuming Peter was another interstellar adventurer who would surely recognize the name and show him some respect.
Peter just scratched his head. "Venom, you ever heard of him?"
A grotesque, smiling face peeled itself away from Peter's back. Venom picked a non-existent booger from its nostril. "Nope." It then casually wiped the imaginary booger on Star-Lord's cheek, causing the captured adventurer to cry out in disgust.
Peter, his patience worn thin, hauled off and punched him again. "Tell me the truth! Who are you?!"
"Stop, stop, stop hitting me!" Star-Lord finally broke. Holding his head in his hands, he adopted the groveling posture of a rogue who knew when to bend. "My name is Peter…"
He was cut off by another punch.
"Why'd you hit me again?!" he howled.
"What do you think!" Peter said angrily. "You're Peter, then who am I? Still not being honest?" He picked up a rock from the wall and started crushing it into dust in his hand. "You want me to put some dirt in your eye?"
"Wait, wait…" Venom's voice interrupted. A slimy black tentacle snaked out and touched Star-Lord's head. The man's mind was practically defenseless. "He's… actually telling the truth. His name really is Peter."
"I told you my name is Peter!" Star-Lord wailed, utterly aggrieved. Then he realized what had just happened. "Get away from me, you slug! You read my mind!"
Venom ignored the insult, a wicked grin spreading across its face. "My, my. You've even been with a Xeronian and a Krylorian? You really get around."
Star-Lord's face turned beet red. What's the difference between this and looking at my browser history?! I'm calling the cops! Just as he was about to protest this egregious violation of his privacy, Peter suddenly clamped a hand over his mouth, his head snapping toward the water.
"Keep your voice down," he whispered, his body tense. "I feel someone approaching."
Peter and Venom exchanged a look, and the symbiote instantly retracted into Peter's body. Peter then grabbed Star-Lord by the ankle and dragged him unceremoniously into a dark corner.
A few minutes later, a team of soldiers emerged from the water. At their head was Ronan the Accuser, wrapped in a blue-gray robe and wielding a massive war hammer—the Universal Weapon. The moment Peter laid eyes on him, his spider-sense began to shriek, a continuous, high-pitched alarm. Ronan was smaller than the Chitauri Warlord from the Battle of New York, but the sense of oppressive power radiating from him was infinitely greater. Peter knew, with absolute certainty, that this was an enemy more dangerous than any he had ever faced.
While Peter was hiding with his new prisoner, Ben and Felicia were already facing their own enemy. Standing before them was Nebula, leading a combined force of the Kree Accusers and the remnants of the Dark Order.
The blue-skinned cyborg was momentarily confused to find other beings on Morag. The purpose of their presence, however, was self-evident. A Dark Order soldier stepped forward and whispered in her ear, explaining what he knew of the heroes from Earth. Nebula had, of course, heard of Thanos's defeat. That single battle had wiped out almost the entirety of the Black Order, leaving only the captured Supergiant whose fate was unknown. If not for that catastrophic loss, Thanos would never have bothered to retrieve a failure like her.
Still, she was surprised. She drew the wicked-looking blade from her thigh sheath, her voice a metallic rasp. "I heard the technology of Earthlings was laughably backward. I didn't expect you'd be capable of finding this place."
"Backward?" Felicia's eyebrows shot up, and she flexed her hands, extending her anti-metal claws. "You can try us!" She would not stand for anyone disparaging the technology of Primus.
Nebula's eyes narrowed. In her mind, this was an opportunity. If she could kill these two and bring their bodies back to her father, surely Thanos would forgive her for the sin of deserting him. With a sharp gesture, dozens of soldiers armed with advanced weaponry surged forward, surrounding Ben and Felicia.
These grunts were no match for Ben, but he saw a rare opportunity to give one of his lesser-used aliens a chance to shine.
"Alright then, Wildvine!" he declared, slamming his hand down on the Omnitrix.
In a flash of green light, his body began to stretch and contort. Giant, toothy Venus flytrap-like structures sprouted from his shoulders, and his legs fused together, branching out into a series of thick roots. The sudden transformation stunned Nebula and her soldiers.
"A Flora Colossus?" she muttered.
"It's Wildvine!" Ben's voice, now leafy and rustic, corrected her. He whipped an arm forward. The thorny limb instantly morphed into a cluster of tough, sharp blades that sliced through the air toward the soldiers.
Wildvine, a Florauna, could manipulate plant life and regenerate from nearly any injury. His body could stretch to incredible lengths, and he could even produce seed pods with various effects: explosives, smoke screens, and parasitic seeds. His overall strength wasn't overwhelming, but against these minions, he was more than enough.
Nebula, a living weapon of steel and fury, bisected an attacking vine with a single slash of her blade. Regardless of what this creature was, she knew a rare specimen when she saw one. A collector would pay a high price for such a unique being. She spun her dagger, preparing to pounce on Ben herself.
Just as she moved, a black blur shot through the air. Felicia, gliding like a black swan, was grace and power personified. Her silver claws flashed in front of Nebula's eyes, and she landed lightly on the ground, her body coiled like a hunting cheetah.
"Your opponent," she declared, "is me!"