As a bounty hunter with a notoriously vicious streak, Rocket Raccoon was acutely sensitive to the faintest shifts in the cosmic winds.
Born from a deranged alien lab experiment, a hybrid of human and animal genetics, Rocket's turbulent upbringing had gifted him not just survival skills, but an almost supernatural sense for danger. That instinct was now screaming in overdrive.
A seasoned hunter of galactic threats, Rocket already had a mental list: who could be hunted, who to avoid, and who to never cross. Everything had been sorted. Until now.
"I am Groot," the tree-like creature murmured beside him.
Rocket glanced up sharply.
"What? You don't like that robot? Can't say I blame you. Blasting him wouldn't earn you any nutrients, and more importantly, we can't kill him. We shouldn't even think about it! You know what kind of hell we'd bring down if we touched that thing?"
"I am Groot."
"No, no—listen to me. That bot, the one you're glaring at? There's only one being in the entire universe capable of creating something like that. And that guy? He makes Thanos look like a teddy bear. We need to steer clear of this mess, or it's gonna get real bad."
Rocket was rattled, deeply rattled. He couldn't understand why that person's subordinate had appeared here of all places.
Could it be… that poor, ill-fated Xandar was now staring down an even worse catastrophe?
The thought made Rocket's blood run cold.
The appearance of Martin's subordinate meant something terrifying: Martin's attention, his devastating, all-seeing gaze, had stretched across half the galaxy and fixed itself squarely on this fragile little world.
And no one, not the Nova Corps, not the Kree, no one, dared provoke those three.
Word had already spread across the universe: From a remote spiral arm of the galaxy emerged a conqueror so fearsome that even beating Odin was just a footnote. It hadn't shaken the cosmos. Not really.
But when news came that he had killed Dormammu, the Dark Lord himself, entire star systems trembled.
Dormammu. The tyrant of the Dark Dimension. The scourge of civilizations. The untouchable one who could retreat into his own dimension where no sane being dared follow.
But Martin had. And not just entered Dormammu's realm, he butchered the cosmic god-demon where he reigned supreme.
When Rocket heard that news… his entire furry body had gone rigid with shock.
"You remember last time, Groot? When we tracked that fugitive on some backwater planet, and then that same planet got targeted by Dormammu? Just his gaze alone cracked the crust! We barely got out with our pelts intact!"
Rocket shuddered at the memory.
Groot mimicked him, placing a hand over his chest with an exaggerated look of fear.
Back in the present, Rocket raised his high-powered binoculars and fixed his gaze on Lockdown.
Everyone was watching the towering, black-armored Cybertronian. Anyone who'd been around long enough, anyone with real intel, was already panicking. Faces shifted from curiosity to horror as realization dawned.
"Xandar's… been marked by him too?"
A terrified voice broke the silence as someone attempted to slip away, heading for the nearest docked starship.
Others stood frozen in place, caught between disbelief and dread.
Lockdown scanned the area with chilling indifference. A low snarl escaped his audio processor as he detected numerous spy devices.
"Pathetic vermin. Is this your first time seeing real power?"
Star-Lord was seething. His swagger was long gone, completely overshadowed by the mechanical menace beside him.
"You just had to do it, huh? You blew our whole covert op. Might as well stop sneaking and go loud at this point," Quill muttered bitterly.
"Agreed," Lockdown replied instantly.
"Wait, what? No, hold up—!"
Too late.
Right before Quill's eyes, Lockdown's head shifted, splitting and transforming into a terrifying cannon array. Energy surged, and a wave of sheer lethality radiated outward like a predator baring its fangs.
BOOM!
A plasma shell erupted with devastating force, slicing through more than a dozen buildings and leaving behind a crater smoldering with ruin.
That was Lockdown in a nutshell; why brawl when you can vaporize?
Quill clutched his head. "You... you just nuked a city block! This is Xandar, you lunatic!"
"I was eliminating a target. I've located the assassin known as Gamora."
Lockdown's voice was emotionless, clinical. The cannon on his face pulsed again, charging for a second strike.
Gamora had made the mistake of stealing the orb, the one with the Infinity Stone inside. That was an unforgivable error.
For Lockdown, the mission was clear: kill Gamora, retrieve the orb. Everything else was collateral.
He marched forward, forcing crowds to part with sheer presence. Fear rippled through the streets.
Finally, he came to a stop in the center of a massive crater.
A shadow lunged.
With deadly grace, Gamora leapt from the edge, bringing her blade down onto Lockdown's neck.
Clang!
A shower of sparks erupted.
"Damn it!"
Gamora gritted her teeth. Bruised, bloodied, and coated in ash, she had waited for the perfect opening, but the strike barely scratched the Cybertronian's armor.
What are these Transformers made of? No wonder even Thanos feared them…
"You're dead, Gamora. You took what was not yours. Now you'll pay for that with your life."
The second shot was ready.
But before it could fire, a swarm of small aerial units swarmed in, encircling both Lockdown and Gamora.
"Cease your actions immediately! You are in violation of Xandarian law. You are hereby classified as code 527 and will be detained!"
From within the crafts, weapons powered up, most aimed squarely at Lockdown. The pilots were drenched in sweat, struggling to keep their fear in check.
They all knew. They felt it. Lockdown wasn't just dangerous, he was a walking extinction event.
"Hmph. Worthless…"
Lockdown's sensors rapidly scanned and calculated. Resistance was pointless. If he fired back now, he'd be obliterated. With a low snarl, he powered down his cannon.
"Wait! This is all a misunderstanding!" Quill shouted, raising his hands.
To Quill's shock, Lockdown allowed himself to be restrained. No fight. No protest.
He just stood there, the very picture of cold surrender.
"You're cooperating? Now you listen?! Why didn't you listen to me earlier?!" Quill shouted, completely losing it.
Lockdown cast him a condescending glance, his optics dimming slightly.
"I am a bounty hunter. I act for credits and objectives, not some glory-chasing fool's crusade. What exactly do you think is inside that primitive skull of yours?"
-------
Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over to my Patreon ——— patreon(.)com/PrimalDemon [remove the parentheses ( )]