Two Person Job: Drax's day.

Altair four turned out to be a surprisingly nice m class whose slow, lazy rotation, extreme permanent tilt at the polls and nearby red giant bathed of the planetary capitol in rose-coloured light for two weeks at a time, broken up with week long nights. Drax wondered what people did in those long nights. Did it get depressing? How did they sleep in the fortnight long days? Blackout blinds? So many Questions.

And yet, more than that, I don't really care. He thought, looking thought the big viewing bubble by the lower airlock. I don't really care. Somewhere on that planet, someone was using the data Baz Sandhurst and Isha had compiled on infinity stones, the data Ronan had attacked his planet for. The data his Family had died for. He didn't have room for any thoughts beyond that. My Daughter would have loved this He realised. She would be full of so many questions about such a strange place. My wife too: she would have found the upside to week long nights. His hands tightened on his knifes. But they are not here, and somewhere on that planet, someone is trying to profit from the reason they are not.

He watched unseeing until the re-entry began to obscure his view, setting the planet below aflame. He shook his head, and turned away from the view. If he had been better at metaphor, he might have thought that the re-entry now scouring the window didn't burn half as fiercely as his thirst for vengeance, but he wasn't, so instead he went and sharpened his knives, got dressed and did other useful things to occupy his hands and mind.

He polished the shoes Gamora had picked out for him, trying not to see his daughters face in the sheen of the leather. He took the suit off the hanger ironed the pants, shirt and jacket and then put on the pants and then neatly put the shirt and trousers back on the hangers again, folding them with the seams properly aligned to the cuff and trying not to think about how his wife scolded when he didn't iron the cuff properly. He put things away and tided up after himself. Someone on this ship had to.

The intercom buzzed.

"Hey Drax? Gamora's good to go, you ready to rock and Roll yet?" asked Quill. Drax considered this.

"No. Why? Are the ships lateral stabilizers once more malfunctioning? Could not they be fixed to prevent rolling motions? Probably with some sort of system of Baffles?"

"What? Oh Jeez no, we don't need any more stuff on this ship that's just plain baffling. Just…. Just get ready to leave the ship, okay? Touch-down time in t-minus…. Touchdown t-minus like five minutes. ish. Three to eight. Ten at the most." Quill said, hanging up.

Drax considered this, running it though his mind several times, trying to un-pick Quill's meaning from his metaphor. He shrugged. He was already ready, he had been for hours. He checked his appearance in the reflection of the window, but all he could see was the fire outside.

There was probably a metaphor there if you tried.

After that he sat for a moment and considered if there was anything else constructive he could do.

There wasn't.

Drax got up, and walked up the steps to the main cabin. He could hear bickering, as usual. He wondered, vaguely, what it was about this time.

"Sort of?" exclaimed Gamora as Drax came up the steps. "He's either in the suit or he's not I don't see how-" Gamora paused. "Don't tell me-"

"Do not tell you what? What information is this Gamora must not know?" asked Drax, walking up to the top of the stairs and looking around. Rocket was making another bomb (Drax was continually amazed that a creature so chronically untidy and base was so precise in his mechanical actions and in the organization of his mess into geometric patterns, and often told him such. He did not understand why each time Rocket chose to take it as an insult) and Peter Quill was once again childishly interfering in another person's business. (Drax often told him this also. He did not understand why each time Quill chose to take it as a compliment.) Quill, Rocket and Gamora stopped and stared at him as he stood at the top of the stairs, and gave him the open mouthed gesture. He was increasingly sure it was some sign of respect.

Gamora pinched the bridge of her nose. "Never mind Drax. Low profile armour is overrated anyway." The proximity alarm begun to sound. She turned to Quill. "We're coming in to land now at their private pad. Take the opportunity to scout the facility from that air, take as many scanner readings as you can and compare them to the schematics that Nova gave us on the EIR headquarters, then move off to the main star port and wait there. You'll have good cover and an open approach back to EIR if you need to."

Drax went and checked the wall-mounted holo opposite from Rocket and Quill, as Gamora futilely attempted to dissuade the two of them from unconstructive idleness. Under the scans, the EIR compound appeared to be a long, low horse-shoe shaped construct of steel and glass arranged around a central garden space of rolling lawns and manicured trees on three sides, with the fourth housing a large private pad, well over two hectares and big enough to accommodate quite large spacefaring craft. That seemed anomalous for a corporate headquarters, as did the location. The headquarters was a good distance outside the CBD, on a low cliff overlooking the city centre and the shallow polar sea, in a part of the capitol generally filed with high-end condominiums. The location was striking, certainly, but to Drax's trained eye the architecture was distinctly underwhelming: a single long low arched roof of maybe three stories curling around on itself for three quarters of a circle before terminating with a six or eight story featureless glass cube of office-space and some ugly generic landscaping in the centre, and the pad up against the cliff. He would not have felt challenged by whatever architect came up with that.

I know without looking that there is an ugly sculpture of their cooperate logo at the very centre of the landscaping. That or a dull water feature.

Rocket scampered up to the cockpit to make the final landing checks, and Drax nodded to him and then went back down the steps to the lower airlock, followed by Gamora. The Milano touched down with the very gentlest of bumps and Gamora popped the seal on the airlock and the both climbed down the rungs and into the hot, damp, sea-air of the city. They quickly jogged clear of the ship as Rocket took off again: given the ship's heavy weaponry and Ravenger paint job, they had decided to give EIR as brief a glimpse of it as possible, although hopefully the diplomatic signal Nova had given them for their IFF transponder would fool automated flight and landing systems. There was a brief blast of hot air as the Milano powered up, and then silence.

Gamora and Drax looked around.

"Not much of a welcoming committee" said Gamora, drily, as she looked around the hectares of empty pad. She glanced over the shear drop down to the city, and sighed.

"Great; it's one of those planets that doesn't believe in safety rails for some reason."

"Perhaps they still use rotary flyers, or some glider that launches off the pad." Said Drax. "That or the architect thought that the clifftop drop was dramatic." He added sourly.

Gamora snorted. "Yes, I suppose they could have been a little more inventive with such a good location." She said, turning her eyes to the building and shielding them with her hand. "Looks like there is a warehouse on the ground floor of that cube: I can see a loading bay. Are those tracks?"

Drax nodded "Light maglev running out to the landing area. Presumably for cargo." He looked around. "This pad is far too large for recreational or corporate vehicles, it must have been designed for goods." He said, as a small hovering cart appeared from within the tacky landscaping and begun to zoom towards them.

Gamora looked to Drax. "The schematics have this down as office space and a small warehouse and shipping unit for their in-house publisher and promotional products, this is supposed to only even be here for tax purposes. If this arms company is operating any manufacture here, then that would be seriously illegal in zoning and labour laws if nothing else." She bit her lip. "Then again, I guess the pad could have pre-dated the corporate HQ, and they just utilised it into their warehouse because it was convenient and it was there. What do you think?"

Drax shrugged. "The fact the landing pad is of relatively new concrete, and describes the transect of a circle that fits with the curving building to make a whole, would suggest their design is contemporaneous. However it is not imposable a pre-existing structure was re-shaped or incorporated into the design, and even if that is not the case, many innocent explanations are possible. Mayhaps the building was originally intended to house production facilities and changed to a corporate HQ when correct zoning was declared, or perhaps they use the outdoor space to park demonstration models of military hardware or house trade shows or arms fairs or similar. Or perhaps the architect was simply and idiot as well as unimaginative. This is not of itself suspicious."

Gamora looked to Drax. "Yes, but you know what is suspicious?"

"That the headquarters of an arms company prominently located in such a defensible position on high ground has no discernible perimeter fence and no visible security personnel whatsoever? Yes, I found that odd."

Gamora nodded grimly. "Great minds think alike." She said, absentmindedly touching her lacquered hairpin as the buggy approached. Drax considered her statement.

"No, I don't believe so." He said, confused, as the cart rolled to a halt in front of them and a smiling Kylarian businessman stepped out to greet them. Drax eyed the man up, looking for weaponry out of long practice, but quickly switched his view to the carts other occupant and cracked his knuckles aggressively. Kree. Drax was by no means a racist, but after Ronan he was in no way happy to see any Kree let alone a uniformed Kree officer eyeing him up. And our cover as part of a non-existent trade delegation to the Kree empire just got that much less convincing he thought.

Gamora, however put whatever training Thanos had given her to excellent use and didn't even appear to notice the Kree official as she launched into an enthusiastic and thoroughly business-like greeting, presenting her credentials to the businessman in a flurry of handshakes and smiles, introducing him and waving him away in one gesture as "-and my bodyguard, as discussed."

"Charmed." Said the Kylarian, giving Drax the kind of two handed hand-on-shoulder handshake only ever used when someone is trying to sell you something. "Drid Wulkr, corporate hospitality at your service. May I be the first to welcome you to EIR industries!"

"I don't know. May you?" said Drax, unsure as to where his strange question was leading.

Gamora's composure momentarily flickered for some reason that Drax couldn't understand, and Drid, trapped in the handshake by convention and Drax's crushing grip gave him an increasingly worried look, but then he rallied and smoothly continued with.

"-and may I introduce Ro'aath the seeing, Kree military attaché."

"Charmed." Said Gamora, holding out a hand in greeting without meeting a beat. The Kree turned to her, looked her up and down once, and said something complicated in the lyranx-torturing gravel-blender that was the Kree court dialect. Gamora's smile widened, and she made a far longer and more complex reply that probably used up a measurable abound of the construction aggregate in the quadrant.

The Kree nodded. "You speak the court dialect well." He replied in flawless Xandarian. "Where did you learn such a feat? Surely not on Xandar. Nova and the Xandarians lack the patience to properly respect a tongue. "

"Patience and tongues can be learned, and the Nova Empire is much much more than Xandar." She replied, siting in the cart as indicated by Drid. Drax pushed past Drid to claim the seat next to her. It may be mistaken for typical bodyguard behaviour, and if so that was good, but mostly it was so he didn't have to sit next to the Kree. Drid and the Kree got into the front two seats of the buggy and it zoomed of with a gentle susurrus of mag-lev thrusters. Drid, beaming wildly, half turned in his seat ignoring the controls, showing clearly that the buggy was self-driving, and said.

"I must say, we at EIR were expecting that sooner or later the thaw in relation following the truce would lead to trade in weapons between the Nova and Kree empires, but we had no idea Nova would be so optimistic as to begin so soon after the war." Gamora beamed back, clearly thrilled at the idea.

"The Nova Corp. was understandably reluctant, even going so far as to attempt an embargo, but the Xandarian parliament voted down the idea last month." She said, adding just enough truth ripped from the headlines to make their fake trade delegation plausible "Given that the Nova Corp. is still pressing for eminent domain on many Nova military technologies, but the civilian government's desire to return to normal trade after a thousand years or a war-economy and utilise our highly developed defence infrastructure to decrease the trade deficit, it was felt a major arms sale to the Kree empire sooner rather than later could secure much needed Jobs on Xandar."

Drid nodded, eagerly. Everything Gamora had so far was true and a well-known talking point on many news and politics holo-channels. "So it's true then, the Xandarian parliament means to push thought with unrestricted trade with the Kree in spite of Nova Prime's objections?"

"Another example of the inherent structural weakness of the Xandarian Parliamentary model and separation of powers. In the Kree empire legislative bodies must defer to the military executive in all matters of external policy: the re-arming of a defeated enemy would never be permitted." Said Ro'aath, with a blunt, matter-of-fact manner that Drax instantly found infuriating.

"So you concede that the Kree Empire was in fact defeated?" asked Drax. This visit was not going well and the presence of the Kree was a threat to their mission here. If he was going to have to fight him, he'd prefer to do it now. To his slight surprise, the Kree didn't seem in the least angered, but merely shrugged as if Drax was stating the self-evident.

"Of course: Xandar still stands. Incomplete victory is always a strategic defeat. " he said, watching Drax coolly for a moment before turning to Gamora.

"I was surprised that no official announcement of your trade delegation was made in the press, nor was one handed to my embassy here. I could in fact find no trace of its authorisation by the appropriate bodies within the Nova establishment." He said, quite calmly, as if laying out points for consideration in a debate. "I could at first fathom no reason as to why such a delegation would be permitted to form, nor and means why its existence would remain unannounced. It was puzzling. I could come to only one rational conclusion…" Drax, sensing that their deception had been uncovered, reached down and drew a knife by an inch, readying to strike. Gamora and Ro'aath stared into each other eyes coldly for a moment, before he shrugged.

"But then I remembered I would need to apply the ridiculous Xandarian political dialectic of 'democracy' and it became clear; such a delegation would be both necessary to secure trade, and deeply unpopular with much of the public who would share Nova Prime Rael's objections to arming the Kree. It is necessary, but an electoral liability. I deduce then that your mission will not be officially announced until after you have conducted the appropriate negations with my government at a level to which I am not privy, possibly with the Standing Committee for Defence itself. Only after you have achieved some level of success will the existence of this delegation be announced to a hostile electorate, yes?"

Drax re-sheathed his knives as Gamora broke into a grin. "Exactly, which brings us rather neatly to our trip to EIR, Drid. Given the potential political backlash against Nova selling its military technologies to the Kree, we have cautiously decided to start by brokering trade between smaller defence companies in Nova protectorates. This will be a test case, of sorts, to try and drum up interest in the Kree empire for Nova technologies, and to prove that a planet such as yours in the Nova sphere of influence but not quite part of the empire can trade with the Kree with no ill effect, to test the waters before we push for wholesale arms trade between our two great empires."

Drax wondered what was wrong with the water and why it would require testing, making a mental note not to drink anything offered, but Drid nodded, clearly already able to taste the sales. "I thought so, that why I invited Ro'aath to sit in on our tour. I'm sure once you have both seen what we have to offer here at EIR that you'll agree that not only will the Kree want to buy our product, but Nova will want to consider manufacturing it under licence for domestic use and export to emerging markets in the Kree Empire and elsewhere."

What a slimly vapid little man. Thought Drax, unconsciously scowling and crossing his arms disapprovingly, before he realised that the Kree was mirroring his gesture and expression exactly and glaring at Drid as if he also couldn't wait to be rid of him.

"No doubt it will be as reliant on expensive high-density power sources and as insufficiently rugged for combat use as the Xandarian sweepings from which it was originally derived." Said the Kree "It may however prove of some small use for Sakaaran Mercenaries or second line units for internal pacification, freeing up resources for real warfare."

Drid froze, and tried to laugh the comment off as a joke before the two glaring warriors killed that laughter in his throat and he turned back to the re-assuring presence of Gamora.

"ahahah…. Don't worry." He said, as they glided into the landscaped area within the ring of the building, passing by an ugly brass sphere on a concrete pedestal rising out of a corporate water-feature at the exact centre of the area. "When you see the latest toys out tech division have cooked up, you'll be… overwhelmed." He said, as they passed under the shadow of the sphere.

The Kree snorted. "Doubtful." He then turned to Gamora.

"When is your government going to release the real details of what happened with Ronan the Accuser? The man was deranged, but he was Supreme Accuser of the Kree Empire. This child's fable that he was defeated by the Ravengers and a ragtag group of 'heroes' insults the intelligence of everyone who hears it."

Drax glared at him, insulted. "What do you mean by this?" the Kree glared back, as if addressed by a simpleton.

"A Kree dreadnaught is simply not shot down by five people in a borrowed Ravenger ship, and the attempts by Nova prime to insist that these 'Guardians of the Galaxy' are anything but an idiot's tale full of nose and fury, and does not tally with any form of political or military probability. Ronan must have been defeated by some as yet unseen Nova superweapon, not a group of misfits lead by a terran Pirate. At the very least, if such a group exited, Nova would have made the greatest possible use of them in their Propaganda by now. Showered them with riches form the highest political office in Xandar."

"Apparently not." Muttered Gamora. "But I have it on good authority that they do exist."

Ro'aath snorted. "If they existed, they would get more that a commemorative coin."

"Actually, I heard it was a stamp." Said Drid, wanting to look like he was contributing to the conversation.

The Kree chuckled. "Then that proves it. No hero capable of defeating Ronan would settle for a mere stamp."

Drax felt he ought to stand up for the team. "A stamp could be a worthy reward, if it was a high value one."

"It's not." Said Gamora darkly. "It's a milli-unit stamp. I checked."

Drax frowned, annoyed. "But no one ever uses the milli-unit stamps."

"Yes they do." said Drid. "They use them to make up the difference every time they change the cost of postage."

They all considered this.

"There is that, I suppose." Said Drax and the Kree at the same time, before promptly glaring at each other again as they glided into a brutalist entrance hallway so bleak and Spartan it could only belong to the worst sort of prison on an uncivilised planet or a multinational with far more money and pretentiousness than taste. Drax briefly wondered who, given the choice, he would prefer to behead: Ro'-aath or the architect. The point with rough-poured concrete and brushed steel and glass was once you discovered what you could do with it, you then did something with it. You didn't just pile it all up and clock off for an early lunch. There were even abstract bronze sculptures and those plants that look like they're fake but aren't, which was the corporate equivalent of three ceramic waterfowl mounted to the wall.

Drid barely waited until the buggy had stopped before leaping out an expounding enthusiastically about some weapons system or other as he stalked rapidly across the hectare or so of bare concrete that could have been put to far better use as a tennis-court. Or a parking lot. Or a toilet for rats. Ro'aath slumped moodily after him, staring into the middle distance with a pout that, combined with his Khol eyeliner made him look like a teen going thought an unfortunate Goth phase. As Drax got up to follow, Gamora pulled level and whispered to him.

"Still no security."

Drax looked around, curious, and then nodded. There was a booth for a guard at the far end of the entrance hall, but it was unoccupied, and for some time by the lack of a chair. A new-looking scanner strip ran the full length of the room, conspicuous in that it wasn't on the schematic Nova had provided and unlike the rest of the architecture it served an actual purpose, but other than its sinister lilac glow there was no sign that this place had any more security than the average convenience store.

"After the tour I'll get Drid to the management suites, try to hint that were' working for Nova and that they are on to them, ratchet up the tension, hope they panic and do something stupid. Try and make a nuisance of yourself on the tour, annoy the guy, put him under as much stress as you can before we get to the management suite, to soften him up."

"If you needed me to soften him up I could just break all of his bones, easily." Said Drax calmly. He noticed Gamora's shocked look. "A Joke." he said. "I am learning."

She snorted and touched the hairpin without seeming to realise. "It may yet come to that, but for now, keep to the plan." She said. Drax nodded. "And try not to antagonise the Kree. One wrong com's call from him and our cover is blown."

"I could break all his bones too." Said Drax. Gamora snorted and moved to catch up, not even wanting to work out if that was a joke or not. Drax followed.

What also followed was two hours of the most interminable tedium Drax had ever experienced, and that coming from someone who had spent his fair share of time in solitary. At least in a padded cell no one tried to sell you new ways to kill people for twenty-million units a pop.

As Gamora gushed enthusiastically over each new gadget and Ro'-aath became more and more sarcastic as to their usefulness, Drax tried to focus on annoying Drid as much as possible, asking stupid question, touching things he was explicitly told not too and even manging to break a few, but either Drid was imbecilic or so convinced that he was getting a huge sale out of the deal, he laughed it off each time. Drax and Ro'aath soon both realised that he was in quite a junior position in this company, a mere salesperson, and both begun to ignore him in favour of examining the merchandise and biding their time to find someone more important to confront with their complaints. What was noticeable was how few other people there were, just the odd junior office worker scurrying rapidly in the other direction, not making eye contact and not stopping to talk. Eventually, however, Drid's idiot grin got even bigger and he announced with some relish.

"And now the highlight of our tour: Our future weapons division. This is the real bread-and-butter of EMI, novel applications for novel technologies, taking the unknown," he said, approaching a pair of frosted glass doors and throwing them wide "- and unlocking it's potential."

Drax was surprised to find what looked like a mixed biology and engineering lab, much like the electro-mechanical-chemical research centre Isha had worked in back in his university days. He looked around at the mess, disorder and distant face cartoons and knew instantly that unlike the sterile and carefully presented façade of the rest of the tour, this was an actual working laboratory: nowhere else had so many spider-plants and that prevalent phenol smell. Gamora cooed enthusiastically, eyes gleaming.

"An actually research laboratory, how wonderful!" she said, the words This wasn't in the schematics or legal under the zoning laws, Nova has every excuse they need to drop on you from orbit like a ton of bricks you smarmy little prick echoing so loud underneath her words it was a miracle they didn't show up as subtitles.

"Mister Drid, this is simply fantastic! I don't think I need to see any more, I think we can move right onto including your product lines in the package we will try to sell to the Kree. Why don't you take me to your office and we can discuss the matter?"

Drid looked surprised, and a little crestfallen. "But don't you want to see what we're working on in the lab?" he said. "I didn't even get to finish my sales pitch."

Gamora laughed flirtatiously and said "Well perhaps I could show you my sales pitch." she said, absent-mindedly patting her hair, but as she did, Drax could see the calculating look in her eyes. She had more than enough evidence to get Nova involved and collect their cash, and wanted to get Drid alone so she could scare the shit out of him without letting the Kree know. But it never hurt to be thorough and besides, there might be an infinity stone angle involved, which could get them one step closer to working out what Thanos wanted with the things, so someone should stay and check out the lab, get any info on it they could. Her eyes met Drax for a moment, and he nodded.

"Perhaps my bodyguard could take in the rest of the tour and make some notes for me while we discuss this." She said. "If you could meet us in the office opposite promptly so we could conclude this?" Let's not take any risks, even if this is a low risk job, let's not get separated for too long. She implied.

Drax nodded, and in a flash Gamora had an arm around Drid's shoulder and steered him gently but forcibly back out of the door. Ro'aath watched suspiciously, but made no move to comment or follow, and feeling his eyes turn to him once Gamora was out of the room, Drax turned to the bustle of the lab, determined to find out all he could and be out of here as fast as possible.

What an unpleasant day. But still, if we can get out of here and get paid, an successful one. And an unremarkable one. He thought.

"-well if the subjects keep rejecting the neural graft by day six then we've got to improve the secondary relays, the micro-surgery is sound and Dr Kessler's neural architecture certainly holds up in theory and- "

Isha rounded the corner from behind a cubical-farm internal divide, and stopped and stared at Drax.

"Drax?" she said stupidly, her train or researchers having a minor pile-up behind her. She was carrying an info-slate, and wearing a lab coat and looking every bit as lovely as ever, and she was legitimately frightened to see him.

"Isha?" he asked, surprised and suddenly wary. He knew the Kree could see this and so quickly put a hand on her shoulder and steered her behind the cubical divide. As he did, he passed a glowing line on the floor and the security scanner blooped but he ignored it. Beyond the cubicle divider, he could see the lab was far larger that he had thought, with ranks of idling centrifuges and a stairwell leading down to some sort of basement level what wasn't on the building plan Nova gave them. "Isha what are you doing here? I thought you and Sandhurst were meeting up with a Kree resistance group?"

"I… I had to take a job to make ends meet, you fund our cell and-"

"Dr Isha?" asked a researcher with a slate bustling up. "We have the test results from phase two and it looks positive, but I need to check these results and apply them against the Sandhurst equation-"

"Isha shot her a glace that stopped her cold, but not before Drax saw what was on her slate, and then glanced up scanning he room for the workstation with the most newsfilmy cartoons cut out and stick to it, which he knew by habit would be Isha's.

And there it was, in amongst the Distant face and Servetus and Rousseau was a different cut out, on which a smiling woman sat in the park, with a formula scrawled along the side. The same formula he could see on the pad and a dozen other places.

"No." he said. "No Isha no more lies!" he yelled, drawing a knife and pointing it at her chest. "You said you were going to use this information to fight the Kree, and here you are working for an arms company actively seeking to sell to the Kree, trying to profit from that formula! That formula is what got your son kidnapped, it is what brought Ronan and Thanos down onto our planet. It is what got my wife and child killed and left me as the man you see before you!" he said, drawing both knifes and spreading his arms wide as scientists begun to panic and flee from him. "Spare me your lies foul woman, what do you think you are doing?!"

"I can explain!" Said Isha, backing away from him. She backed into her own workstation, and, wide eyed, began to scrabble for purchase and Drax approached her, knives raised. "I can explain!"

"Then explain!" roared, Drax, closing in. There were tears in his eyes "Then explain this Isha!"

Isha finally found the stunner she was scrabbling for on her desk, and shot Drax twice in the chest. He went down, hard, as the sensor strip registered weapons fire and the general alarm begun to sing out. As He struggled to rise, he could hear Isha crying into a communicator "Baz, they're here, the Guardians of the galaxy! I don't know how they found us but they're here!"

"… keep calm. It's just providence. I'm readying the drones. We needed a field test anyway. I'll be right up. On to stage three my dear..."

Drax struggled up, and got hit by a stunner round again. He wondered, briefly, what Gamora was doing and if she would be all right, and if so, if she would be there to help because being repeatedly tased like this this was just embarrassing, he felt, struggling up. He saw Isha fleeing towards the steps, and followed at a full sprint. She was almost at the first step and he was almost upon her when he heard the clunking, whirring noise, and paying it no heed, pulled back to strike when the whirring suddenly increased in volume and a flat disk of black metal about a foot across and four inches thick at the centre struck him in his hand and nearly knocked the knife from him. He quickly lashed at the disk, but it pulled back and hovered in space. A figure on the steps laughed.

"Not so easy is it Drax. Feeling a little like you're not in control of the situation?"

Baz Sandhurst stood on the top stair, wearing a lab-coat billowing behind him like a cape and some sort of powered exoskeleton as two more of those disks slowly orbited his shoulders. Drax snarled, and threw a knife at his face, but a disk obediently moved to block it. The knife sunk deep into the thick metal, but it stopped an inch in font of Sandhurst' smiling eyes.

"I think I have more drones than you have knifes." He Quipped, moving to stand next to Isha

Drax had had enough of this, and lunged forwards with his one knife raised, leaping up of the banister and grabbing the other knife out of his hovering assailant, he brandished both and leapt down to slash both of their throats-

And the drones flared into that strange blue light he'd last seen around the other infinity stone, the one Ronan had taken from Isha's last lab, and he felt something metallic land on his head, and the overwhelming impulse not to kill them, and to quietly await orders.

Baz looked from Drax's eyes, to the knife at his throat, and then back again. "Lower it."

Drax lowered it. Baz turned to Isha. "See my dear? Compliant as the rest. We a ready for stage three."

She frowned. "He'll start to reject it within minutes, and reject it fully by day six, just like the others. We have a very short widow of control before they go completely psychotic. More so, anyway." She said, but Drax could barely hear by that point. A high-pitched buzzing was starting to fill his mind, and he could feel something sharp and cold and metallic start to scrabble at the base of his skull, like spider pincers, and he found it very hard to care or to focus or to-


Drax stood before the infinity stone.

He could feel the grittiness of desert sand beneath him, and somewhere quod cadit tempus molliter was playing, mingling with the hiss of escaping hydrogen and a screaming then ended suddenly with the crackle of flame and a deep Kree laugh, and Drax realised that his hand was inches from the stone, about to close around it and it would be so simple to give in to it and burn up with rage and-

And then what? he thought. Who will avenge my family then? Who will stop Thanos from doing this to other families? Who will save Gamora, help my team and, if at all possible, beat Sandhurst to death against that ugly architecture.

Drax took his hand away from the stone.

"No." he said.


Isha and Baz Sandhurst were some distance away, bickering like an old married couple over something technical, and the glass walls of the building has a dish-shaped hole in them, the spider webbed walls covered in blood from the decapitated corpse lying against it, but they both stopped in shock at the word "No." and turned around just in time to see Drax shake his head violently and reach up and rip the disk from of the back of his neck just before it could insert the probes into his skull.

They started at him with shock, as he crunched the edge of the disk he was holding like paper, and raised a knife in one hand. Isha started running, but Baz actually smiled, and raised both hands like a conductor, and before Drax could even begin to approach him, literally dozens of the disks flew out the stairs, and began to fly into him. Hard.

Beating against him again and again, trying to knock him down, and starting to cut into his flesh with their rough edges. He snarled, and tried to push forwards against the tide, but they began to bludgeon him again, and he released that if whatever sort of mind control they were meant to exert didn't work against him, then Baz was happy to beat him senseless with them the old fashioned way. One hit Drax in the knee, and nearly took him down as he slashed at them futilely and Baz laughed.

The laughter stopped abruptly when Drax caught hold of one, and Frisbee'd it thought the already weakened glass wall, shattering it, and ran through. In the relative freedom of the bad landscaping, he made a few dozen yards before they came at him again like birds, but by then he'd spotted a rack of the little corporate hover buggies and ran towards it. As he reached it, the atrium doors shattered and Ro'aath leapt out, blocking his path. Their eyes met.

"You! I knew you couldn't be trusted Kree!" yelled Drax, before realising that Ro'aath had shouted almost exactly the same thing at him and was also being pursued by the disks. To angry and tried to try to work out exactly what was going on, Drax punched Ro'aath inn the gut and bundled past him onto a buggy and, finding the manual controls, begun to drive for the exit at full pelt. Behind him a flurry of Kree swearing and the sound of another mag-lev starting up and the bonk bonk bonk of disks against Kree armour indicated that the Military attaché had had the same idea. Gods knew where Gamora had got to, but a body being violently flung thought the glass a few stories above them gave him an idea.

Weak and near to passing out, Drax noticed two things. One, that the cart was squeaking at him that manual driving was unsafe and asked him to put in a location it could take him to. He blearily recited the Milano's bay at the spaceport before passing out. And two, he still had a partly crashed disk in his hand.


Drax sat on the sofa in the Milano as Quill panicked and remonstrated and organised a nova Party to come in and rescue Gamora and Rocket just listened and stared. At length, Quill hung up on Dey, and, running a hand thought his hair, limped over and leaned on the table edge for support.

"Okay. Dey says the city swat teams will be in place in under and hour , the Nova naval station has been put on high alert and is making their own plan to go in, but it will take at least three hours for them to get their asses in gear and clear it with the local government. Gamora's still in there, and alive according to Rocket's signal, and she's got the distress beacon she can use to give us a position if we want to go in and blow her an exit hole. Dey says we just need to wait until the local swat get there, and they'll get her out all right."

Drax shook his head.

"The local swat will not have a chance. Whatever those things are, they can exert a powerful grasp over the mind. I think it is only thanks to my past exposure to the infinity stone that it was unable to overwhelm me."

"Why?" asked Rocket. Drax shrugged.

"Perhaps because they are based of infinity stone effects themselves. I do not know. All I know is, if we are to save Gamora, we must go in ourselves. Now."

"Whoa there Mister Clean, if you can't be mind-controlled because you touched the stone, surely the same follows for Gamora."

Drax nodded. "Yes, and when Baz realised that, he ordered those things to try and beat me to death. They overpowered me and a Kree officer and that was just a dozen of them. We have no idea how may there may be in there. Gamora is at risk, and we must save her."

"Yeah but Drax, I don't know if you've taken a good look at the three of us, but we ain't about to be saving anyone. Quill's crippled, I'm hardly better and you just got the frickin' snot beaten out of you by-" Rocket paused. "You know, this is so weird I can't even think of a good metaphor."

"Satan's Frisbees? Maximum Overdrive Hubcaps? Batteries Not Included mind-flayers?" said Quill, poking the destroyed disk on the table. "I'm with Rocket: we're in no state to do this, and Nova and swat are here to do it for us."

Drax slammed a first down on the table angrily "You are not listening! These things will turn Nova or the swat teams against Gamora in seconds. They will make it worse. These thigs are powerful, they are dangerous and they are built on the research that resulted in the death of my wife and child. I am going back there, and I am going to stop them, if you are with me or not."

Rocket leaned in. "Drax, pal, I never thought I'd have to be the professional voice of reason of any group, but just listen to yourself. You're angry that Isha stabbed you in the back again and that she's using Sandhurst research against us. And yeah, I've got no idea how hard that must be for you, but I know I've got at least one psycho ex-girlfriend that I might run into one of these days, though stars knows this ain't Lylla's style, and I don't even wanna think about the various women Quill must have out there with good reason to hate us, and Gamora has family issues with Thanos and Nebula but we've got to stay professional at times like this. Given how messed up a group we are, we are going to run into old loved ones who might try to kill us. We have to stay focused. Or do I have to give you the 'everybody's got dead people' speech again?"

Drax stared at Rocket for a long moment. "I will leave off. I will sit and wait for the swat team to try and fail. I will sit and wait for nova, and play no part unless you are both happy with it as a team… if you can honestly answer me one question."

"Sure." Said Quill. Drax looked to him and then shook his head. "Not you. Rocket."

Rocket cocked his head half expecting Drax to call him 'the furry beast' or another of his descriptive terms, he rarely used his actual name. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously "Alight Drax, I'll play along. Ask."

"The people holding Gamora, the people we are facing, they are directly responsible for the death of my family, as much a part of it as Thanos and Ronan. They said they did not mean it, that they would only use the research for good, and they lied to me. They are callous and indifferent to the suffering they cause to others, so long as they get what they want out of their technology, and I know what they are capable of like you two do not. They are the source of my unhappiness. They made me what I am today, the killer, the monster. So I ask you this Rocket: if Gamora was being held by the people who created you, the source of your misery, and you know exactly what they were callable of and the rest of the crew did not listen, would you sit and council that we wait and see if the local swat could manage it, or would you go in and finish it yourself?"

Rocket froze, his face an awful rictus, he then shook his head dismissively. "It's not like that Drax and you know it, so stop trying to manipulate me emotionally because it's not gonna work and this is a completely different fickin' thing-"

SLAM!

Drax turned the disc on the table over one handed, and slammed it back down, not taking his eyes off the racoon.

"I would imagine that building a mind-control disc is no easy feat, even for an expert in autohypnosis. You would need the help of someone with experience melding machine to flesh." He said, as Quill craned to look, and Rocket, tentatively, almost fearfully ran his delicate little paws over the heavy disk and picked it up. As the flat matt metal caught the light, laser etched into the bottom was the usual serial numbers and barcodes, a pat. pending 01920928201 B. Sandhurst and a pair of neural probes sticking out the base, just under the heavy, stylised corporate logo: an architectural wedge-shape marred by a single stylized keyhole.

Keystone Life Sciences neural jack 3.0. designed by KLS on Halfworld, assembled in Xai'xan.

His body shaking. Rocket dropped the Disk with a thud. Groot poked and pleaded with him and Quill asked what the hell that was supposed to mean, but he just looked down at the disk for a long time.

"You recognised the logo from of the shock-prod, right?" asked Rocket. Drax nodded. Quill continued to go ape-shit and get ignored. Rocket regarded Drax coolly for a long time.

"Quill's right." said Rocket, not breaking eye contact with Drax. "This is too risky: we sit and wait for back up."

"Thank you Rocket!" said Quill. "See, I knew he'd come round."

Rocket shrugged. "We'd better get Drax's wounds dressed: hand me that field med-kit, willya?"

Sure." Said Quill, hobbling over and fetching the kit and handed it to Rocket. he watched quite calmly as Rocket got out a syringe and filled it from a vial, Etorphine hydrochloride, his brow only wrinkling when he watched Rocket shake out the bubbles by tapping on it with a claw.

"Wait, that's a tranquiliser, what do you need that for-" Quill blinked, and looked down at the empty syringe sticking neatly out from between two of his knuckles where his hand stuck out of the cast.

"Oh you traitorous little ring-tailed cu-" managed Quill, before falling over sideways onto the sofa.

Rocket took the time to make sure that Quill was in the recovery position and not about to choke to death on his tongue before he rounded on Drax.

"You NEVER get to do that to me again!" he snarled, pointing. "Never! This once, Drax, this once you get to use it against me, understood?"

Drax regarded him coolly, and then nodded. "Understood, it was not fair. But we need to act, and act now." Rocket snorted.

"Sure. I'm crippled, we've just pumped out captain full of MORE drugs he don't need in his system, and I'm gonna have to strip all the extras of my gun to even lift it. I can take a basic gun and maybe some spray-on det cord, nothing heavier, and you know the best thig big shot?" said Rocket. "Nova and Swat think were gonna wait this out, so were gonna have to move fast not to get caught in the middle of a three way firefight like the filling in a you're fucked sandwich, and if these things can mind control people, we might have to kill people being controlled, dipshit. Any idea how many civilians could be in that office?"

Drax stood up. "They knowingly worked with the people making these thighs, they took the risk." He looked to Rocket. "If we do this, we do this my way, furred one. You and Groot follow my lead. If they step aside, they live, if anyone stands in your way, do not hesitate, those drones are a danger the like of which I have never faced."

Rocket looked at Drax, and narrowed his eyes. "I ain't Quill pal: they fight, I drop them. They get in the way, I drop 'em. I can sleep with that. I'm just worried, if this gets personal, are you going to be able to stay in control of the situation?"

Drax looked to him, and let out a very small smile as he flexed his knives. "Sandhurst is the one who likes control. Personally, I find it overrated." He said, as he flexed his muscles, and walked out into the start of the week long night, Rocket and Groot falling in behind him like avenging angles, as he went to try and save Gamora, get revenge, and kill people who tried to stop those two things happening.

Awesome Mix tape Vol 2. Talking Heads: Psycho Killer.