After disembarking, the group stepped onto the streets of the settlement. The entire place reeked of industrial decay—neon lights, scrap-metal architecture, and a heavy punk aesthetic.
A few ragged children ran past them, laughing. They looked more like beggars than anything else. One little girl bumped into Groot head-on.
Groot slowly raised his hand. A small blue flower bloomed in his palm.
He plucked it and offered it to her.
The girl accepted it with a shy smile before running off.
Karl, however, noticed what others didn't—two of the children had nimble fingers. In a lawless place like this, stealing was often how kids survived. It wasn't cruelty. It was reality.
---
They entered a gambling den of sorts.
But instead of cards or dice, the central platform featured two alien beasts tearing into one another while spectators placed bets.
Blood sport.
Upstairs on a balcony, Quill and Gamora were talking privately.
Karl wasn't about to miss this classic moment.
He casually slipped upstairs, phone already in hand.
Just as he arrived, Gamora placed headphones over her ears. Quill leaned closer… and closer…
Karl began recording.
Their faces were inches apart—
Then shing—
Gamora's blade pressed against Quill's throat.
"Peter Quill. I know exactly what kind of man you are. I'm not some naïve girl."
Quill's face drained of color.
"You've misunderstood—I'm not that kind of—"
He stood abruptly, glancing out the window—
And froze.
"Crap. That's bad."
Below, Drax and Groot were beating the life out of each other.
Quill bolted downstairs. Gamora followed.
---
In the main hall, Drax straddled Groot, hammering punches downward while Groot's vines tightened around Drax's neck.
The crowd roared, cheering. Some had already begun taking bets.
Drax tore the vines free with brute force—
And found Rocket aiming a gun directly at his head.
"Enough!"
BOOM—
Thunder rolled through the hall.
Lightning erupted in spiraling arcs, turning the entire casino into a storm-wracked arena.
Karl stood at the center, bathed in crackling electricity like a god of thunder. The crowd scattered instantly, clearing the space around him.
"Rocket. You've had too much."
His voice was calm but carried weight.
He turned to Drax.
"If you want revenge, you'll need them. So rein it in. Or I'll let you both sample the lightning."
Under the stormlight, Karl looked almost divine.
Rocket and Drax sobered instantly.
"Karl, you heard him!" Rocket snapped. "He called me a brainless low-life!"
Karl knew Rocket's history. Unlike most, he would never dismiss him lightly. Besides Groot, few truly understood Rocket's pain.
"It's not like I asked to be this way!" Rocket shouted.
His voice trembled as years of resentment surfaced.
"I didn't volunteer to be torn apart and stitched back together over and over! To wake up on some lab table again and again until I turned into this freak! A monster!"
His words broke at the end.
Silence fell.
"No one here thinks you're a monster," Karl said firmly.
Quill stepped in front of Rocket. Gamora held Drax back.
Karl's voice softened.
"No one chooses how they're born. Some are born into power and privilege. Others crawl out of filth."
Rocket looked up.
Karl continued, "The ones in palaces can be more rotten than pigs. The ones in the mud can be purer than angels."
"What matters isn't what others call you. It's what you believe about yourself. If you decide you're a monster… then that's what you become."
Rocket's eyes glistened.
No one had ever said that to him before.
Usually they mocked him.
Usually they died for it.
He had always believed he was nothing more than a lab experiment gone wrong.
But now—
Maybe that wasn't the whole truth.
Karl shifted his gaze to Drax.
"You owe him an apology."
Drax exhaled slowly.
"My words were too harsh. They were spoken in anger and drink. I apologize, Rocket."
His frustration had never truly been about Rocket. It was about Ronan—about being so close to vengeance and still powerless.
The tension eased.
---
A red-skinned alien woman approached Gamora.
"Miss Gamora. My master requests your presence."
Her voice was smooth and controlled.
Gamora nodded.
The group followed her into a vast chamber filled with glass display cases. Inside were countless artifacts—and living specimens.
"This place is twisted," Rocket muttered.
Karl paused before one case.
Inside sat a brown dog in a space suit.
Cosmo.
Not just a dog.
Future Guardian.
Further down, another case caught Karl's attention.
Encased in frost was a black, sinewy mass with white eye markings.
A symbiote.
Even frozen, it looked… aware.
They were led before a man clad in an extravagant fur coat. His white hair framed his head as he stood with his back to them.
"Our master possesses the largest and most comprehensive collection in the universe," the servant announced. "Allow me to present—the greatest Collector in existence."
The man turned slowly.
Strange spectacles rested on his face. A thin vertical line marked his lower lip.
The Collector had entered the stage.
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