.ೃ࿔*:･𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐯𝐢𝐢𝐢. a simple complication, miscommunication

“𝐇𝐄𝐘, 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍?” Peter asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and worry as he and Ingrid hurried over to the two adults.

“I think… we’re here,” Stephen said hesitantly.

Tony’s brow furrowed as he assessed their surroundings, his mind clearly racing. “I don’t think this rig has a self-park function,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. His eyes flicked to Peter, and in a brisk tone, he instructed, “Get your hand into this steering gimbal. Close those around it. You understand?”

Peter barely had time to process before he found himself rushing forward, trying to mimic Tony’s actions. “Yep, got it,” he replied, his voice betraying a nervous edge.

Tony glanced at him, his expression a mix of focus and urgency. “This was meant for one big guy, so we gotta move at the same time,” he explained.

Peter’s eyes widened as he realized the ship was heading straight for a blockade. His voice shot up in panic. “We might wanna turn. Turn! Turn! Turn!”

Ingrid’s breath caught in her throat, her fingers instinctively reaching out to steady herself against the wall. Just as the ship seemed doomed to crash, Strange conjured a shimmering shield around them. The impact was jarring, the sound of metal groaning under the strain as the ship broke in two, sliding across the surface of Titan with a deafening screech.

For a moment, everything was still, the only sound the ragged breathing of the four occupants. Strange let the barrier down and moved quickly to help Tony to his feet. “You alright?”

Tony let out a shaky breath, his usual bravado momentarily absent. “That was close. I owe you one.”

Peter, dangling from a web, slowly lowered himself. “Let me just say, if aliens wind up implanting eggs in my chest or something… And I end up eating you, I’m sorry.” His attempt at humor was met with a small giggle from Ingrid, but the tension in the air was palpable.

Tony shot him a pointed look, clearly not in the mood for jokes. “I don’t wanna hear another single pop culture reference out of you for the rest of the trip. You understand?”

Peter swallowed hard, sensing that something was off. “I’m trying to say that something is coming,” he said, his voice growing more urgent.

Before anyone could react, a grenade rolled into view, its ominous ticking filling the silence. Instinctively, Peter, Ingrid, Strange, and Tony scrambled back, their movements hurried and chaotic. The explosion that followed was disorienting, the world around them a blur of sound and light.

As the smoke cleared, three figures emerged in the doorway: Star-Lord, Drax, and Mantis. The tension snapped like a rubber band as Drax growled, “Thanos!” Without warning, he hurled his daggers at Strange, his movements fueled by a blinding fury.

Strange barely had time to react, conjuring a shield to stop the blades from striking him. Strange jerked his shoulders, sending his cloak to wrap around Drax’s head.

Quill rocketed into the air, his thrusters flaring as Tony immediately followed. Suddenly, Quill twisted in midair, launching a rocket back at Tony. The explosion was too close, the shockwave hitting Quill, who tumbled out of control, colliding with Tony before both crashed to the ground.

Quill scrambled to his feet, laughter bubbling up from him as he held up a small device with a single button. Tony’s eyes darted down, catching sight of the triangular gadget now attached to his chest. He didn’t have time to react before Quill pressed the button. The device came to life, drawing Tony violently toward another piece of tech embedded in the nearby wall. With a grunt of pain, Tony slammed into the wall, his suit crackling as he struggled to pull himself free.

Peter barely registered the sudden gasp that escaped him as he noticed a figure approaching— a woman with eerie black eyes and glowing antennas. He instinctively scrambled backward, fear making his voice crack. “Woah, woah, woah, woah! Please don't put your eggs in me!”

Panic setting in, Peter fired a series of webs, desperately trying to keep her at bay. His webs hit their mark, tangling around her and yanking her off her feet, sending her crashing to the ground. Relief barely had time to set in before Star-Lord blindsided him, slamming into Peter with a forceful kick that sent him sprawling. “Stay down, clown."

Ingrid, seeing Peter in trouble, summoned her powers, fire igniting in her hands as she hurled blazing fireballs at Star-Lord. Peter, recovering quickly, extended his spider legs and lunged at Quill, intent on taking him down. With a swift motion, Quill hurled an electric cord, wrapping it around Peter and sending a searing jolt through him. Peter cried out in pain as he crashed to the ground.

Meanwhile, Drax was still struggling, his voice a low growl as he fought to free himself from Strange’s cloak, which was wrapped tightly around his head. “Die, blanket of death!” he snarled, yanking and pulling with all his might, but the cloak held fast, refusing to let go.

Tony finally managed to break free from the magnetic hold, sparks flying as he ripped the gadget off his chest. His gaze quickly assessed the situation: Star-Lord had Peter in a headlock, Ingrid stood with her fist engulfed in flames, ready to strike, and Strange had positioned himself strategically near the still-struggling Mantis.

“Everybody stay where you are! Chill the F out!” Star-Lord’s voice cut through the chaos, his helmet retracting as he shouted, his face contorted with a mix of desperation and anger. He was holding a blaster to Peter’s temple, his grip steady. “I’m gonna ask you this one time. Where’s Gamora?”

Tony, his mask retracting, tried to mask his confusion with sarcasm. “Yeah, I’ll do you one better. Who’s Gamora?”

Drax roared out with the same intensity, “I’ll do you one better! Why is Gamora?”

Quill's grip tightened on the gun pressed against Peter’s head. “Tell me where the girl is, or I swear to you, I’m gonna French fry this little freak.”

Tony’s eyes locked onto Quill’s. “Let’s do it! You shoot my guy, I blast him. Let’s go!” His repulsor shifted, transforming into a larger weapon, the barrel now aimed squarely at Drax’s head.

Drax, undeterred by the threat, nodded with fierce determination. “Do it, Quill! I can take it.”

Mantis, her voice high-pitched with panic, cried out, “No, he can’t take it!”

“She’s right. You can’t,” Strange added.

“Oh yeah? You don’t wanna tell me where she is? That’s fine. I’ll kill all three of you and beat it out of Thanos myself!” Star-Lord’s voice was loud, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. His grip on Peter tightened, his gun trembling slightly as he added, “Starting with you.”

Ingrid’s heart raced as she felt the heat building in her hand, the flames growing larger, more intense, ready to strike at any moment. But then, Quill’s words registered. Confusion flickered across her face as the flames in her hand faltered slightly. “Wait, what? Thanos?” she echoed.

Stephen, sensing the deepening misunderstanding, tried to bring some clarity to the chaotic situation. “Alright, let me ask you this one time: What master do you serve?”

Star-Lord’s expression shifted from anger to bewilderment, his brow furrowing deeply as he stared at Strange. “What master do I serve? What am I supposed to say? Jesus?”

Tony’s shoulders slumped, exasperation clear in his posture. “You’re from Earth?”

Quill shot him a glare, his voice defensive. “I’m not from Earth. I’m from Missouri.”

Tony’s eyes rolled in frustration. “Yeah, that’s on Earth, dip-shit. What are you hassling us for?”

Peter, still trying to make sense of everything, cautiously asked, “So… you’re not with Thanos?”

Star-Lord let out a scoff, his anger quickly giving way to something more desperate. “With Thanos? No, I’m here to kill Thanos! He took my girl—” His words cut off abruptly as he glanced around, really taking in the group for the first time. Suspicion crept into his voice. “Wait, who are you?”

Peter’s eyes widened, and he blurted out, “We’re the Avengers, man.”

The tension that had been crackling in the air seemed to ease slightly as Star-Lord sighed, letting go of Peter. “You’re the ones Thor told us about,” Mantis said softly, stepping forward, her voice filled with cautious recognition.

Tony’s eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. “You know Thor?”

Star-Lord gave a quick nod. “Yeah. Tall guy, not the good-looking type, needed saving.”

Peter and Ingrid exchanged a puzzled glance. “That… doesn’t sound like Thor,” Ingrid murmured, her confusion mirrored in Peter’s eyes.

.ೃ࿔*:･

“What the hell happened to this planet?” Quill muttered as everyone stepped outside the ship, the eerie, desolate landscape of Titan stretching out before them. The ground was cracked and broken, the sky a sickly hue that gave the whole place an unsettling atmosphere. Quill held up a small device, studying the readings with a frown. “It’s eight degrees off its axis. Gravitational pull is all over the place.”

Tony’s gaze swept over the ruins, the remnants of what must have once been a thriving world now reduced to this wasteland. “Yeah, well, we’ve got one advantage.” He glanced over his shoulder and noticed Mantis bouncing up and down with childlike glee, clearly amused by the planet’s altered gravity.

“He’s coming to us. We’ll use it.” Tpny turned back to the group, his mind racing as he tried to piece together a plan. “Alright, I’ve got a plan. Or at least the beginnings of one. It’s pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need. We definitely don’t wanna dance with this guy. We just need the gauntlet.”

As Tony spoke, his eyes landed on Drax, who was yawning. A full, exaggerated yawn that echoed through the silence. Tony’s patience snapped. “Are you yawning? In the middle of this, while I’m breaking it down? Huh? Did you hear what I said?”

Drax shrugged, completely unfazed. “I stopped listening after you said we need a plan.”

Tony blinked, momentarily at a loss for words, before turning to Quill with an exasperated sigh. “Okay… Mr. Clean over here is on his own page.”

Before Quill could respond, Ingrid chimed in, her tone teasing, “I thought you said no more pop culture references.”

Tony shot her a pointed look, frustration flickering in his eyes. “No more pop culture references from you two,” he snapped, jabbing a finger in her and Peter’s direction. “I can do whatever I want.”

Ingrid, always quick to defend herself, opened her mouth to protest, but Quill spoke up, bringing them back to the task at hand. “See, not winging it isn’t really what we do.”

Peter, still reeling from the back-and-forth, looked from Quill to Tony, confusion evident on his face. “Uh, what exactly do they do?”

Mantis chimed in with a proud smile. “Kick names, take ass.”

There was a brief, stunned silence as everyone processed what she said. Drax, standing beside her, nodded in solemn agreement. “Yeah, that’s right,” he added quietly.

Tony stood for a moment, his gaze distant. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Alright, just… get over here, please.” He waved a hand, trying to bring some semblance of order to the chaos. “Mr. Lord, can you get your folks to circle up?”

Quill raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “‘Mr. Lord’? Star-Lord is fine,” he corrected, motioning for Drax and Mantis to join him.

Tony tried to focus, but the casualness of Quill’s response only added to his frustration. “We gotta coalesce, ’cause if all we come at him with is a plucky attitude—” Tony started, his voice filled with urgency.

“Dude, don’t call us plucky,” Quill interrupted, his tone suddenly defensive. “We don’t even know what it means.” The sincerity in his voice was almost laughable, but it made Tony and Ingrid exchange exasperated glances, both of them rolling their eyes in unison.

Tony took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. “Alright, we’re optimistic, yes. I like your plan. Except it sucks, so let me do the planning, and that way it might actually be good.”

Before Tony could fully process Quill’s casual dismissal, Drax jumped in, his voice booming with pride. “Tell him about the dance-off to save the universe.”

Tony’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What dance-off?”

Quill shot Drax a quick look, clearly not wanting to revisit that particular memory. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, trying to brush it off.

“Like in Footloose, the movie?” Peter asked, a mix of curiosity and excitement in his voice.

Quill’s eyes lit up, his mood shifting in an instant. “Exactly like Footloose!” he exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Is it still the greatest movie in history?”

Peter and Ingrid exchanged another glance, this one filled with a blend of confusion and disbelief. Peter finally shook his head, his tone flat. “It never was.”

Quill’s enthusiasm deflated in an instant, his grin fading as he narrowed his eyes at Peter.

“Don’t encourage this, alright?” Tony said, his voice firm as he turned to Peter, who mumbled a quiet “Okay." Tony’s patience was wearing thin, and it showed. “We’re getting no help from Flash Gordon here,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

Quill’s ears perked up at the mention. “Flash Gordon? By the way, that’s a compliment.” He pointed at Tony, Ingrid, and Peter, his tone playful but with a hint of pride. “Don’t forget, I’m half human. So that 50% of me that’s stupid? That’s 100% you.”

Ingrid, unable to resist, chimed in with a sing-song tone, a mischievous grin on her face. “Screw you, I’m half human too!”

Tony let out a weary sigh, rubbing his temples as if trying to stave off an impending headache. “Your math is blowing my mind,” he replied, his tone laced with a mixture of sarcasm and genuine disbelief. He pointed at Ingrid, trying to regain some control of the conversation. “Come on, you’re way smarter than this.”

Mantis tilted her head, her eyes wide with curiosity and concern. “Excuse me, but… does your friend often do that?” she asked, her voice soft yet tinged with urgency. She pointed a delicate finger toward Doctor Strange, who was sitting cross-legged on a nearby rock, hands poised in an intricate mystic gesture. The Time Stone hovered between his palms, casting an eerie green glow that flickered against the landscape. His eyes were tightly shut, and his head jerked rapidly from side to side.

Tony, noticing the strange behavior, frowned and called out, trying to mask the worry in his voice. “Strange, we alright?”

Ingrid, standing beside Tony, raised an eyebrow, her tone laced with disbelief. “Oh my God, is he seriously doing magic tricks right now? This isn’t exactly the time for party tricks, Doc.”

Without waiting for an answer, they rushed forward, concern overriding their initial confusion. Just as they reached him, Strange gasped and fell backward, snapping out of his trance. His chest heaved with exertion, sweat beading on his forehead. Tony reacted instinctively, lunging forward to catch him by the arm before he could collapse entirely.

“Hey! Hey, you’re back. You’re all right,” Tony said, his voice a mix of relief and lingering anxiety as he steadied Strange on his feet. He tightened his grip, searching Stephen’s eyes for any sign of what he’d just experienced.

Peter, who had been watching the scene unfold, took a hesitant step closer, his voice tinged with concern. “Hey, what was that?”

Strange took a moment to catch his breath, his gaze distant as if he were still processing the visions that had flooded his mind. “I went forward in time,” he began, his voice uneven and strained, “to view alternate futures…”

Ingrid leaned in, her heart pounding with anticipation. “And? What’d you see?” she asked, her voice softer now, afraid of what the answer might be.

Strange’s eyes flicked to her, and then to the others, his expression haunted. “All the possible outcomes of the coming conflict,” he said, each word weighed down with the gravity of what he had witnessed.

Quill, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke up, his tone both curious and apprehensive. “How many did you see?”

Strange swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the ground as if the number itself was too heavy to bear. “Fourteen million, six hundred and five,” he replied, the sheer scale of it leaving a chill in the air.

Tony, his heart sinking, had to ask the question that everyone was dreading. “How many do we win?”

The silence that followed was suffocating, every second stretching into an eternity. Strange stared at Tony, the weight of a million possibilities and the crushing reality of only one chance pressing down on him.

"One."