"Since you've joined, don't be idle. Now, I give you your first task."
Frieza pointed outside. "Come down with me. Go find Erik, the one with the red helmet. He's in charge of building spaceships for me, but his craftsmanship is only at the level of making iron balls."
"Since you can build such a large spaceship, you must be very skilled in this area, right?"
A glint flashed in Frieza's eyes. "The task of supervising ten thousand warships is entrusted to you."
"I want the strongest firepower, the toughest armor, and the most luxurious interiors."
"After all..."
Frieza glanced at Thanos. "Professional matters should be handled by professionals, wouldn't you agree, Commander Thanos?"
"Half a month."
Frieza raised a finger and wagged it in front of Thanos's purple face.
"This demand shouldn't be too much for our newly appointed Demolition Office Director, should it?"
A faint flicker crossed Thanos's deep-set eyes.
As the former overlord of the Black Order, he knew military-industrial capacity inside and out. Xandar's industrial base was strong, bolstered by Chitauri tech and tireless mechanical troopers but...
"Lord Frieza."
Thanos didn't grovel like Loki.
He kept his spine straight, voice low and resonant, preserving the last dignity of a fallen sovereign.
"If you only want flying scrap, I can gather ten-thousand hulls in three days."
"But you just said—"
Thanos paused, staring straight into Frieza's crimson eyes.
"—you want the heaviest guns, the toughest armor, and the most luxurious interiors."
"Half a month? Even driving this planet's production to the brink, I can't guarantee every ship will meet your standard."
At that, Thanos spread five thick fingers.
"Twenty days."
"Give me twenty and I'll forge an armada that can steamroll the Kree Empire."
"All for the sake of the Frieza Force's brand quality."
Listening to the well-reasoned, almost corporate reply, Frieza's lips curved in an amused smirk.
"Oh-ho-ho…"
"Someone who's done big things sees the big picture."
Frieza clapped, apparently delighted with Thanos's attitude.
See? That's professionalism.
Unlike Apocalypse—always screaming for blood, he'd tear the house down if you asked him to fix a pipe.
Frieza magnanimously waved a hand, the picture of a reasonable boss. "Since it's for quality, I grant special approval."
"In twenty days, I want my fleet blotting out these stars."
"If even one ship is missing or a chair isn't soft enough—"
Frieza leaned in, tapping Thanos's golden breastplate with a fingertip that rang like glass.
"I'll twist off that purple head of yours and hang it from the flagship's prow as an ornament."
"I'm sure it'll look quite nice, yes?"
Thanos's pupils shrank and he lowered his head.
"As you command, Lord Frieza. "
…
Having assigned the overseer's task, Frieza swaggered back to Irani's spacious, opulent office.
The old woman was probably scrubbing toilets somewhere, but that didn't stop him commandeering her room.
He flopped into the plush executive chair. "Natasha."
With a snap of his fingers he ordered, "Pour me a drink—the centuries-old vintage."
"Yes, Master."
Natasha, in a maid outfit, obediently brought the glass.
Frieza sipped, then waved open the huge holographic star-map on the desk.
A glittering galaxy sprang to life in the office, countless stars winking like diamonds—each dot a planet, an asset, a mountain of Fear Points.
"My, my. The Nova Empire's territory is vast indeed."
His finger traced the map, greed naked in his eyes as resource and population figures scrolled past.
According to Nova Corps data, hundreds of habitable worlds lay within this sector—hundreds of potential housing developments.
"Wonder how many Credits I'd get if I sold the lot wholesale?" He rubbed his chin, business brain whirring.
(T/N: Credits/Units = Intergalactic Currency)
He now held Infinity Stones and terrifying power, yet a principled villain never forgets the art of profit.
Without money, how to pay the troops?
"But who to sell to?"
His gaze roved across the chart. "That collector called Tivan? Heard he's filthy rich and loves oddities."
"Package Xandar as a potted plant—he'd probably pay up."
"Or…"
An image formed: a colossal, purple-helmeted figure.
"Galactus?"
"That glutton adores Planets. Only question is whether the deadbeat can actually pay. If he tries to dine-and-dash, I won't mind turning him into an all-you-can-eat buffet."
While Frieza day-dreamed, his eyes snagged on another sector.
A red zone, marked extremely dangerous after years of war with the Nova Empire—the Large Magellanic Cloud: the Kree Empire.
"Oh?"
Frieza's eyes lit up.
"Kree…"
"Old-school hooligan empire. Heard the Supreme Intelligence keeps plenty of goodies in its brain, and a realm that size must have treasuries bursting with Credits."
A predator's grin spread across his face, like a wolf eyeing a fat sheep.
"Wonder if they're willing to buy peace?"
"If not…"
He drained his glass.
"I don't mind launching a 'Kree Empire Merger' and turning their turf into another backyard."
"Once the whole Galaxy pays me rent, the monthly property fees alone will make my hand sore from counting. Oh-ho-ho…"
The thought put him in sublime spirits.
But before rent-collection, he needed to fetch something else.
His gaze settled on a bleak, forbidding world at the map's edge.
Vormir.
"Power Stone…"
He narrowed his eyes at the Planet's coordinates.
"I'm already strong enough but those purple rocks are simply a delight to look at."
"And if that idiot Star-Lord grabs it first and uses it to dance, I'd never live down the embarrassment."
"I've already collected two of the six Infinity Stones."
"My peak Power Level reaches 120 million, but the Universe still has the Cosmic Entities and the Living Tribunal."
"Without all six stones, I can't quite rest easy."
***
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