Chapter 29: Contest of Champions
Leo awoke in an unfamiliar place, having now idea how or when he got there. His mind was confused, his memory hazy. He believed he was in space looking for a way to get back home. Now he was in a dirty dungeon cell on an unfamiliar planet, surrounded by the filth of the galaxy.
I'm not a fighter, so what am I doing here? Leo thought.
Looking around, he noticed the others in the cell: aliens, monsters, criminals from all over the universe, all of them fighters. He felt their harsh stares. Their hands gripped the iron bars that caged them, their arms reaching to tear the shell from his back. Every single one of them wanted to take him down. And they would all get their chance.
"Get up, whelp! Did you enjoy your sleep?" the guard asked as he struck Leo in the face with his staff. A thin line of blood ran down Leo's cheek as he slowly rose to his feet. "It's time to fight, and the Grandmaster will not be kept waiting!" the guard barked.
Leo staggered a bit, his senses blurred by the blow and by the unbearable dungeon conditions. He straightened up and looked the guard in the eye. "Don't call me whelp," he ordered, as if he were the one in charge.
"Ha! You're a mouthy one, aren't you? Get moving!"
He was the leader of the ninja turtle team, a band of mutant turtle brothers that had saved the world. But not this world. Far away from anything or anyone he had ever known, this once-great hero was now reduced to a mere prisoner. And his captors couldn't have been happier.
"Where am I?" he asked.
"You're on Sakaar," the guard explained, yanking Leo by his chains and dragging him down a darkened corridor.
"How did I get here?" he pressed on.
"Do you not recall your journey? Your friend Dregg sold you to the Grandmaster. For a pretty penny, too. Let's hope you fight as much as you're worth. Ha!" The guard cackled.
Leo stayed on his feet despite the exhaustion. His shell was covered in dirt and sweat. Confused, Leo appealed again to the guard. "What goes on here? Where are you taking me?"
"The Grandmaster's obedience disk must have caused you to lose your memory, eh? This is Sakaar, a planet of pure destruction. A planet that separates the weak from the strong through combat. Here, only the strongest survive, and the weak are destroyed. Here is where you will battle the most powerful men on Sakaar, if not the entire galaxy. All for the pleasure of the Grandmaster."
The blue turtle grew angry. "Who's the Grandmaster?" Leo demanded.
The guard roared with laughter, then composed himself and addressed Leo's question. "Grandmaster is your leader, whelp! He is the original, the first lost and found. The creator of Sakaar and father of the Contest of Champions, and you would do well to remember that if he ever graces your presence!"
The guard struck him across the face with his staff yet again. Leo touched his skin and felt a fresh trickle of blood. His mind began to race as he recalled his most recent adventures.
This can't be right. I was in space. I was looking for a way to get home. The Asgardian mischief god Loki invaded the dimension of Asgard and then went to Earth, and I set off to find a way home. Me and Donnie have been traveling for weeks? Months? I don't remember. We collected all the anulax batteries needed to fix the Bifrost Bridge, a portal to take us back to Earth. The Guardians of the Galaxy were taking us home when we were ambushed by Lord Dregg. We crashed, and then . . . then I can't remember . . .
Leo quietly drifted in and out of consciousness as the guard dragged him through the darkened catacombs, depositing him before the stone door that opened to the coliseum. He collapsed.
"When this door opens, you will meet your fate at the hands of No-Name, a titanic insectoid gladiator with more tentacles and fangs than an abilisk. If you lose, she will probably take your body to reproduce and plant eggs inside. Not that you'd be a good host. Look at you! You're weak! It's a shame. What is the Earth phrase? 'Good luck' isn't it? Ha ha ha! Good luck then, whelp!"
And with that, the guard kicked Leonardo squarely in the stomach, knocking every last ounce of air from his lungs. Gasping for breath, he tried to relax himself. He thought back to the days when he was a young turtle in the sewers of New York. He thought of his father, Splinter. How sweet would his salty vegetables and rice be right about now? He thought of his four brothers. He thought of his sister Karai, and his friends April and Casey. He thought of all the times they had taken down the Shredder, and he smiled. He thought of Lady Sif.
As the stone doors opened, a bright white light burned his exhausted eyes.
"Get up. It is time."
This might be the end, Leo thought.
This might be the end, Donnie thought.
He was inside the Eclector, the Ravager mothership, in one of the maintenance repair rooms working on modifications to his T-Phone. He'd had an idea for a way to track Leo through his teleporter bracelet, using the unique frequency that the bracelet emitted. That was how they'd found him in the Sanctuary, when Thanos had pulled him through space to his domain.
"I gotta tell ya, Don, for a half-evolved hairless ape, you really got a knack for this kind of thing," Rocket said, as he climbed up on the table and looked at the components of the T-Phone laid out. "This communication device of yours is . . ."
"Cute?" Kraglin offered. Kraglin was Yondu's right-hand man and second-in-command of the Ravagers.
Donnie rolled his eyes in irritation, looking up from his work. "I love being talked down to, guys. It's my favorite thing."
"Glad to be of help," Rocket snorted.
Donnie ignored him. "I cracked the mainframe on my T-Phone to try to incorporate the teleporter bracelet's GPS system inside," he said, half to himself. "But the two just aren't compatible."
Rocket picked up a piece of the T-Phone, scratching it with a claw and flicking it. "Well, you use this chintzy transistor system so what do you—?"
"I'll have you known I hand-crafted that T-Phone computer in my lab," Donnie spluttered. "This is one of the most flexible algorithms ever known to man."
"Wow," Rocket said, stifling a laugh. "Man? All of man?"
Kraglin inspected the components of the T-Phone. "And you say you can't just call him on this communicator thingy?" he asked.
"Nope," Donnie said. "I can't get any reception out here."
"I got an idea." Kraglin pulled a device from his pocket. "Here."
"What is it?" Donnie asked, turning it over in his hand. It was a small plastic box with a viewscreen in the middle of it. "It looks like one of those buzzers they give you at sit-down restaurants."
Kraglin took the device back, pressing buttons on it. "You just program this here and—say you want what? Xandar? So you—"
"This is a phone?" Donnie asked. "This is a phone that calls across the galaxy?"
"I don't know what a 'phone' is, but you are easily impressed," said Kraglin.
Rocket pulled a knife out of the toolbox and set it on the table. "This is a piece of smelted metal that stabs people."
Donnie rolled his eyes. "Come on, Rocket!" he said. "On Earth, the T-Phone is probably the best phone on Earth. And I can't get a signal from one half of New York to the other."
"Honestly, I don't know how you live on that mudball," Rocket said, hopping off the table and going off to find Groot.
Kraglin looked at Donnie in shock, his jaw dropping. "You don't even have this tech yet? How do you get on?"
"I told you," Rocket called over his shoulder. "They're like glavnars."
"Haw!" Kraglin guffawed. "They really are." He looked nervously at Donnie. "No offense," he stammered.
"Some taken," said Donnie as Kraglin went over to the tool box, pulling out something that looked a lot like a sonic screwdriver from the Dr. Who TV series. Donnie grabbed it, hefting it in his palm. "What is this?" he asked.
"A sladon," said Kraglin.
"Which does?"
"Makes software compatible with each other," Kraglin explained as he opened up the other device and removed some circuitry. "We use it to convert Kree apps to our hologame tables. They do have some fun games. Splashdown Smackers is my favorite."
"Makes software compatible with each other?" echoed Donnie. "Like updates a program's software or—?"
Kraglin bent over the phone, activating the sladon. Its tip glowed a bright orange as he traced the outline of the T-Phone's inner circuitry. "You do this like this . . ." he explained, concentrating. " . . . and this like this."
The T-Phone's circuitry suddenly became like plasma, molding and forming around the space phone's computer chips. When Kraglin deactivated the sladon, they had finished created a new piece of tech, a combination of the T-Phone's computer and the space phone's computer.
Donnie's jaw dropped. "Oh, dear lord."
Kraglin grinned. "Pretty impressive, huh?"
"You're telling me!" Donnie said. "This kind of tech won't be available on earth for probably centuries." He reassembled the T-Phone and turned it on. "It works!" he whooped, seeing a bleeping red dot and coordinates flash across the screen. "It really works!"
He pressed a button on the T-Phone, which sent out a signal to Leo's teleporter bracelet. The screen on the T-Phone lit up, displaying a three-dimensional holographic image in the air above the screen. The image depicted two alien beings, dressed in scavenger's clothes, picking through a pile of spare parts.
"Leo?" Donnie called. "Leo?"
The scavengers jumped, startled by the voice. They looked around frantically, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. "We can see and hear them, but they can't hear us," Donnie mused. "What have you two done with my brother?"
"Ooh nee cha!" one of the scavengers shouted, and they both dashed off screen.
Kraglin chuckled. "They think we're ghosts."
Donnie ended the call and checked the transmitter's coordinates. "Well, the tracer says that the call was received in Gamma Quadrant, Sector Four."
"That'll be Sakaar," said Kraglin.
"Where's that?" Donnie asked.
"It's on the edge of the known universe," Kraglin explained. "It's a galactic dumping ground. The surface is covered in mountains of trash that have been there for who knows how long. The people who live there scavenge parts to sell to the planet's ruler, the Grandmaster."
"You think Leo's on Sakaar?" asked Donnie.
Kraglin shrugged. "Best lead we've got so far. Better go and tell the Cap'n."
They hurried to the bridge, where Quill and Yondu were catching up on old times. Quill was playing some of his music for Yondu. "I see you still got that fancy gadget Kraglin got you, boy," he said, holding the Zune in his hand.
"Sure do," Quill said. "There's some really kicking music on here." Yondu activated the Zune, which had connected wirelessly with the Eclector and started playing "That's The Way I Like It" by KC & The Sunshine Band over the speakers. Quill went into a bout of light dancing as the bridge door slid open and Donnie and Kraglin, and Rocket entered.
"Hey, Donnie!" Quill said. "How's progress coming? Found Leo yet?"
"Well actually, we just finished working on something that might help," Donnie said. He proudly held up his modified T-Phone. "I give you my newest invention!"
"That's one outdated piece of Earther crap!" Yondu said. "Where'd you get it from? A dumpster?"
"Actually yes," Donnie said. "I made these phones as a way to communicate with my brothers back on Earth, but I can't get a signal out here." Except for the transistorized circuits I've installed inside! Now, no matter where Leo's teleportation bracelet is, it will send back coded messages to me which I can pick up with my small portable receiver. I call it—the Turtle Tracer Tracker! Or for short, the Triple T!"
"We traced the signal over to Sakaar," said Kraglin.
"What would Leo be doing over on a trash planet world?" Donnie mused.
"It ain't just a trash planet, boy," said Yondu ominously. "Sakaar's where they hold the Contest of Champions. Gladiators from every sector come to do battle for the title of Champion and the praise of the Grandmaster. They got a whole city down there."
He strode to the window, staring out at the space beyond. "It's a freaky world. Nothing makes sense there. Time works differently too. Charlie-27's crew took a vacation there once. They swore they were only there for a couple weeks, but we didn't see them for over a year. And they hadn't aged at all, neither."
Yondu turned back to Kraglin. "Tell the men to get ready," he said. "We're going to Sakaar."
Kraglin saluted. "Aye aye, Cap'n," he said, rushing off the bridge.
It wasn't so bad, for a dungeon. Leo had seen worse.
A broken and battered Leo stirred on the hard metal where he slept and found himself face to face with the biggest orloni rat he'd ever seen, chewing on one of his boots.
Well, maybe not.
He tossed his other boot at the orloni rat and it scurried away. He figured he might as well look facts in the face. He'd landed in the Grandmaster's gladiator dungeons on Sakaar, and unless someone near and dear to him—like Donnie or Sif, maybe—came and rescued him, he was stuck here, fighting gladiators until he lost.
His memories had been slowly returning. He'd woken up from the crash strapped into a chair, running through some kind of slideshow like an amusement park explaining where he was, why he was here, and what he was doing. The next thing he knew, he was in front of the Grandmaster, the supposed leader of this nutty planet. He'd been told not to talk to any other gladiator and not to ask the guards for anything because he wouldn't get it anyway. "Not even for seconds on dessert?" he'd asked, and in response the Gladiator's sour-faced bodyguard Topaz had given him an electric shock using the obedience disk they'd attacked to his neck. That had taken hours to recover from. He had to remember to keep his mouth shut.
The situation was hopeless, he supposed, but he had been trained as a ninja, and so he resisted feeling hopeless. There was always a way, as Master Splinter would say.
He wondered about his family, back on Earth. Were they alright? Were they okay after Loki's invasion? He wondered also about Lady Sif. Would Donnie and the others take care of her? Not that Sif would let anyone take care of her, exactly. Still, he hoped that she was alright.
The orloni rat returned, and Leo winged his boot at it again. It retreated, baring its teeth in a rather human way that gave Leo a chill. He hoped he wouldn't see those teeth sunk into his ankle later. Maybe sleeping wasn't such a good idea.
"Do you mind, man?" The voice rose out of the corner, further down the corridor. Leo whirled. He hadn't talked to any of the other gladiators yet, nor had they talked to him. He wasn't exactly ready to test the Grandmaster's obedience disk again.
"It's me, the pile of rocks in the corner," said the voice. Leo's vision was hazy as he noticed a grey figure shifting in the corner. He appeared to be made of rocks, dressed in gladiator gear. "Despite what you might think, us rocks need to sleep, too."
"There's an orloni—"
"Yeah man, they're everywhere around here. They like to eat gladiators. Use your boots as a pillow."
"Use my boots as a pillow?"
"What, metal is such a nice cushion? Keep a rock in your hand and crush its skull when you get a chance. Like so." As the orloni came skittering back, the gladiator rolled over on it and smashed it with a faint squeal. "Leave the body," the gladiator went on, sitting up. "The others will get the hint. Otherwise, you might find one chewing on your face in the middle of the night."
"I don't have a rock," Leo said.
The gladiator chuckled. "Don't look at me, man. Rocks is my skin. I can't just lend you my skin. That would be like me saying, 'Hey, man, I need a shell. Can I use yours?' You need it to live." He waved his rock-covered hand. "I'm Korg."
"I'm Leo," Leo said, returning the gladiator's wave, albeit a little painfully. "Has anybody ever escaped from this place?"
"Nah, man. Death is your escape," said Korg. "Let me give you the lowdown. Whatever you do, don't get sick. No one who goes to the infirmary ever comes back. Poor Kaifi got a temperature about three years ago. No one's seen him since. Maybe they let him go, I don't know."
Korg crossed his legs and put his hands behind his head, leaning back against the wall in a carefree pose. "Second, don't talk to anyone during the day. I mean, you can talk to me. As long as I'm not in one of my daydreams. I have a whole fantasy world going on in my head, where I'm on a picnic with my wife and the sun is shining, and I'm about to eat one of her sweetberry tarts."
"You're married?" asked Leo.
"Never ask a personal question," Korg continued. "Never fall down. Never tell anyone you don't belong here. None of us belong here, man. Look at me. What business has a bunch of rocks got fighting in the arena? Nothing matters here except putting in your time until you get to die."
"Got it. Thanks," Leo said. "I wish I knew who I was fighting next."
"I hear you're up against the assassin," Korg said. "Should be a quick and painful death."
Leo chuckled mirthlessly. "Thanks. I don't suppose there's a way of beating him? Her?"
"Him," Korg said. "The general strat is to keep ducking and weaving when you fight him. He's one of the best melee fighters ever known. He's got some kind of mix between technology and energy where he can create your own weapons for him to use out of cybernetic energy. But he always does this finishing move thing where he runs up the wall of the arena and stabs down at you. Watch for that. That'll probably be the only time he's vulnerable."
Then the doors slid open, and Topaz entered with two other Sakaarian guards. "Green one!" she said. "Prepare for battle."
The guards pushed and shoved Leo out the door, but not before Korg called after him, "Good luck, man."
They hustled Leo down a narrow corridor to the weapons room. After he'd beaten No-Name the Brood gladiator (by some miracle) in the first fight, he'd been given access to the weapons room to choose his gladiatorial outfit. He'd chosen a suit of armor that fit over his shell, complete with gauntlets and knee-high boots. He also wore a futuristic helmet made of a tough metal that had small holes poked in the visor for him to see through, like a knight's helm.
Leo quickly put his armor on, not wanting for Topaz to zap him with the obedience disk remote. He'd already tried to remove the thing but without luck; it was embedded deeply in his skin. Grabbing his katanas off the wall, he walked down the corridor to the stone door that opened into the coliseum.
The door creaked open, the deafening roars from the arena outside filling Leo's ears as he strode forward. The gladiator fight started the same way it always had, a shimmering glittering hologram of the Grandmaster, as tall as a New York City skyscraper, dominated the floor of the arena as he announced the fight.
"Fellow Sakaarians, subjects of the Empire," the Grandmaster said, his giant smiling face filling the air above the arena pit. "We're going to have a great time today. In the arena today is a crowd favorite. The once-great freelance assassin, Hakk-R!"
The crowd erupted in cheers as Leo looked to the arena floor. A tall figure was doing battle with one of the Sakaaran guards, to warm up the crowd. The creature was tall, far taller than him, with glittering yellow eyes underneath a black hooded cape that trailed down his back. His face was a metallic grey, with four mandibles extending in front of his mouth from the sides of his face, but the rest of his skin (that Leo could see) was a turquoise in color, with brilliant black and yellow markings. He wore a dark hooded cloak and pants with armored knee pads. He was fast, ridiculously fast, moving with the grace of some exotic predator, leaping, dodging, whirling, swinging his two arms like clubs. They were like clubs; there were no fingers at the ends of them, more like stubby tentacles than anything.
The Sakaaran guard did his best to dodge the attacks, but he was no match for Hakk-R. The creature suddenly grew two more arms from his back, his skin rippling and pulsing as the tentacles sprung forth and wrapped around the guard's torso, holding him tight. The guard gurgled and collapsed as Hakk-R snapped his neck viciously, and the crowd yelled even louder.
"Whoa!" said the Grandmaster. "That was brutal! And that's what we want to see, folks. If you need someone to lend you a hand, or several, Hakk-R's your man."
Now the spotlight shifted to Leo's door as the gates creaked, sliding open all the way. As he stepped out onto the sandy blue arena floor, there were some cheers in the crowd, but mostly boos. Even though Leo had been fighting at the arena for a while, and doing quite well, he still wasn't too popular with the crowds yet. Most of them were hoping he'd get stomped by the Grandmaster's champion.
"In the arena today, facing off against Hakk-R, is the rising newcomer," Grandmaster said. "I give you: Adolescent Genetically-altered Shinobi Terrapin! Boy, that name is a mouthful every time."
Leo slid the visor closed on his battle helmet and drew his katanas, taking a fighting stance. Hakk-R made the first move; he jumped, vaulting across the arena and swinging his two arms in a wide arc. Leo quickly stepped to the side, as Korg had suggested, and ran forward.
Hakk-R waited for Leo to get close then stabbed outward with his tentacle arms. Leo's ninja reflexes warned him of the attack and he sidestepped, but couldn't completely dodge. The edge of Hakk-R's tentacle grazed his side, flipping him around and knocking him to the side. Leo grimaced in pain, and Hakk-R pounced.
The blue turtle parried a heavy strike, and for a moment the two gladiators stood facing each other with tentacles and weapons locked, like titans out of some lost time. Hakk-R broke out of it after a few seconds, backing up to face Leo. The creature's eyes glittered as it scanned Leo, identifying his katanas, and materializing his own pair at the end of each tentacle. Hakk-R's katanas were black, but inlaid with the same neon green electrical design as his arms. The problem was, Hakk-R had sprouted an extra three pairs of arms, and now Leo was facing off against an eight-armed gladiator with swords in each tentacle. They hung suspended in his tentacles, as though his body were made out of Jell-O.
Hakk-R charged, whirling his katanas at lightning speed. Leo ducked and backflipped backwards, swinging his sword as he flipped. This time his attack hit. Hakk-R's chest took the brunt of the hit, leaving a thin slice on its surface. Hakk-R reeled for a split second, and Leo ran forward, aiming his katanas at the gladiator's chest.
Hakk-R countered, and one of his blades bit into Leo's upper arm. Leo let out a shout of pain as the crowd roared its approval. Hakk-R hadn't attacked with full force, otherwise his arm would have been sliced clean through. Still, the blade had cut deeper into his arm, as a flow of green turtle blood oozed out. The pain in his side was getting worse, and he wasn't sure how long he could keep going. It occurred to him that Hakk-R was toying with him, wounding him here and there, seeing how long he could last before his inevitable defeat.
Hakk-R struck at him again, and he barely had time to guard. He pushed back and retaliated with a quick stab. He'd been aiming for a spot where two teal arms intersected, but he'd missed it by a few inches. He stepped back a little, bracing himself for further assault.
The two struck and parried and twisted and twirled about the arena floor. The crowd was ecstatic. Many of them were still hoping the alien turtle warrior would die, but his support was growing. He was a good fighter, even when wounded.
The alien gladiator snarled, launching himself at Leo. Their four blades crossed, as Hakk-R shoved with all his might. Leo tumbled backwards from the force of the blow as the creature spun on its heel and kicked him in the ribs. He grunted then somersaulted backwards to get some distance.
Dashing forward, he met Hakk-R's attack with one of his katanas, spinning around to slash at his hooded head with the other. Hakk-R ducked and lunged outward with his blades. Leo parried the blow with both katanas and elbowed his opponent on the back of the neck. Hakk-R groaned and stepped forward, regaining his balance. Leo went for his second hit, dropkicking him. Hakk-R caught both his feet between two tentacles. Leo quickly back flipped to get free, landing in a crouch and sweeping Hakk-R's feet from under him with a roundhouse. Hakk-R landed hard on his back and Leo quickly kicked him on the side of his helmet. Hakk-R's head snapped sideways with the blow.
That's two hits, Leo thought. Now he had to get away before Hakk-R recovered. Hakk-R flipped up and performed a series of slashes and jabs with his eight cyber katanas, which looked little more than whirling discs of black light. Leo parried and blocked the blows, but Hakk-R found an opening and slammed one of his tentacle arms into Leo's jaw. Leo was launched backwards across the arena, landing hard on his shell.
He felt a few ribs crack as he landed, the air in his lungs leaving him. He hissed in pain and frustration as Hakk-R soared through the air in a powerful leap toward him, ready to finish him off. The crowd leaned forward in their seats, holding their breath. Leo reached for his katanas, climbing quickly but unsteadily to his feet. Hakk-R struck full force, but Leo stood his ground, parrying the blow then twisting around to attack from behind. But the other four cyber katanas were there waiting for him and his attack was stopped, knocking him to the ground again.
Hakk-R ran for the arena wall. This is it, Leo thought. This was what Korg had told him about. He quickly placed himself to stab Hakk-R on his katanas when he flipped over. Hakk-R pushed off the wall, starting his flip. Leo quickly slashed, aiming blindly, hoping to land a hit anywhere on the creature. His katanas sliced through two of Hakk-R's arms, ripping the cloth on his torso and exposing his acrid green blood. Hakk-R shouted as he fell.
This was Leo's chance. He raced forward to end the battle. The crowd was going absolutely crazy; they hadn't expected this at all. Even two arms down, Hakk-R still had six cyber katanas that he now swung wildly with the ferocity of a cornered animal, trying to parry Leo's strike. His blade moved up and over Hakk-R's, cutting through another arm. Hakk-R raised his foot between Leo's legs, hoping to catch him off guard, but he caught the gladiator's foot in his hands and twisted it, flipping him over on his stomach.
Leo straddled Hakk-R's chest, holding a blade to the gladiator's neck. Hakk-R stopped resisting and lay still, not wanting to make Leo move suddenly and slice through his neck. "Ready to die?" Leo asked. The anger and adrenaline still sang in his veins, like a stimulant. The crowd began chanting: "No mercy! No mercy! No mercy!"
Hakk-R stared him in the eyes, accepting his defeat and waiting for his death. Leo dreaded this moment; he knew what would happen if he disobeyed the crowd. But he hadn't killed an opponent in the arena yet, and he didn't intend to start now. He stabbed his katana into the floor, the blade sinking through the sand. "Not today," he whispered fiercely in Hakk-R's ear.
A sudden burning pain pierced his neck and he rolled off of Hakk-R as the obedience disk on his neck crackled with energy. His jaw dropped in shock and his eyes widened as he fell to his knees, rolling over onto his side. The crowd, disappointed with Leo's sense of morals, booed. Leo twitched and shuddered as the electricity coursed through his body, until a blessed numbness settled over him and he lost consciousness.
It was early morning on Sakaar, and the sixth night of the week-long Contest of Champions had just taken place the night before. The spaceport was already bustling when the Eclector docked. They checked in with security and then stood for several long moments on the landing platform. Thor looked down at the city, trying to orient himself.
Sakaar City was a vast, chaotic metropolis that stood out from Sakaar's junk wastelands like a tail on a fire dragon. Most of the buildings were built from the same scrap metal, with domes and towers thrusting up into a sky that seemed to arc like a teacup. It didn't look like the most pleasant place to live.
He could see the Sakaaran Arena, a huge round-shaped arena at the very center of the city. It was a meeting place, a place of celebration and community that held the gladiatorial battles of the Contest of Champions.
The Ravagers took the turbolift down to the street level and split up into groups, each group searching for any mention of Leo as discreetly as possible. They would meet back at the arena in about six hours, and Yondu had passed out communicators to use if needed. It was a cool cloudy day that threatened rain. Thor blended in with the pedestrians, dodging carts and rickshaw taxis as he and Donnie made their way through the streets. It was strange to be on a populous world again, strange to feel cool air. They'd been in space for too long.
"Our first stop is going to be one of the junk dealers in the Shaka district," Donnie said, glancing down at his Turtle Tracer Tracker. He wore a simple poncho draped over his shell.
"That's a long walk," Thor said, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head. He wore a smelly cloak given to them by the Ravagers. There weren't many Asgardians who frequented this side of the galaxy, and he'd stick out fairly well. Donnie thought he looked even more conspicuous than without a cloak; he was so solidly built that it was obvious that he'd trained for strength and eaten enough protein. Junk scavengers didn't have the muscular build that an Asgardian god of thunder did.
It began to rain, a fine mist that made the air shimmer. The arena was a silver disc ahead as they walked through the streets surrounding it. The junk dealer's shop door was closed, blinds drawn. Outside a small lasersign read SCRAPPER/THEDUCK. That was all. It was a quiet street, one of the outer bands from the arena, which was visible only as a haze of light in the distance. Shops and a café surrounded the junk dealer. Small businesses, mostly—an accounting office, a tailor, a store selling ceramic teapots and plates.
They walked into the shop, and Thor heard a buzzer go off inside as they crossed the threshold. The shop was small, but there was a lot of stuff stacked into it; piles of junk and spare parts covered shelves that lined every wall, and sat in piles and containers on the floors.
An elegant woman with olive skin and hair in a messy black ponytail stood behind the counter, wearing a simple blue tunic and polishing a bit of machinery. "I'm sorry, we're closed," she said, smiling.
"I was hoping you could help us," Donnie said, showing him the Turtle Tracer Tracker's screen. "We're looking for a bracelet."
"A bracelet, you say?" The woman came around the side of the counter. "What's the specs?"
Donnie shrugged. "It's custom-built, just a simple band that goes around the arm. Teleportation technology built inside?"
The woman shrugged. "Might have seen it. You're free to look around to your heart's content. If Scrapper 142 can't get it for you, then nobody can."
They walked through the shop, looking for the bracelet. Donnie dug through a box of old comics as one of them caught his eye, and he pulled it out. It was a Marvel Comics Prince Namor the Sub-Mariner, still in the wrapping. "Whoah," he breathed. "A Namor #7 in primo condition! And it's signed by Stan Lee himself!" He put the comic under his arm, planning to buy it for Mikey.
"Found it," Thor called from the back of the store. He picked the bracelet out from the inside of an old vacuum tube and they took it back to the counter. "Where did you get this?" Thor asked Scrapper 142.
She picked it up, examining it. "Found it out near the Magnestar wormholes," she said. "Near a week ago. The other junkers said it was haunted, or cursed, or something. Why?"
"We're looking for the owner," said Donnie. "Any ideas?"
"Nope, but you've come to the right place," said Scrapper 142. "I'm the one who handles the junk depot side of things. Missing persons is my partner's deal." She jerked her thumb at a door in the wall, cracked slightly ajar.
"Send him in, doll," a voice said from the other room.
Scrapper 142 grabbed a knife from her belt and threw it at the door, its blade burying itself in the worn wood. "I told you," she said. "If you call me doll again, I'm gonna de-web your feet."
"Fair enough," the voice said. "Send him in, female Asgardian."
"Asgardian?" asked Thor, eyeing Scrapper 142 suspiciously. She avoided his gaze, choosing to polish a piece of metal instead.
Donnie walked towards the door and opened it, peering inside. A small, ducklike creature sat behind a wooden desk with a stack of files and a desk lamp. On the wall hung a map of the city surrounded by various newspaper clippings. A small corded fan was plugged into the wall and sat on a filing cabinet on the opposite wall, blowing cool air across the room. The window blinds were lowered, casting rays of light through the room. The whole environment looked like something out of a 1940's noir detective movie.
"I'm assuming you're . . . uh . . . Mr. Theduck?" Donnie asked.
The duck rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I gotta fix that sign. Everyone calls me 'Howard the Duck' on account of—"
"You're a duck?" Donnie interrupted.
"Exactly! Hey, maybe you don't need a private investigator after all!" Howard snickered. He put his feet up on the desk, tipping the brim of his fedora low over his eyes. "Just joshin' ya, pal. Come on in, make yourself comfortable."
Donnie took a seat in the chair opposite the desk. "You're a detective?" he asked.
Howard glared at him. "What, the fact that I'm a duck who is talking to you isn't surprise enough? Sure I'm a private detective."
"So what kind of cases have you solved?" asked Donnie. "Tracking down thieves? Reuniting missing relatives? That kind of thing?"
"That's what I thought a couple months ago when I got into this racket," Howard sighed. "But nah, it's mostly just been insurance fraud and cheating couples. Real uplifting, exciting stuff, kid."
"So why did you get into it?" Donnie asked, taking a seat.
"Needed a change, I guess," said Howard. "Kinda went through a rough patch. I tried getting away from the city, but I just ended up back here." He glanced over at the window. "This city," he muttered, half to himself. "What is there to say about this city? What is there to compliment about this city? Don't get me wrong, this city is a nice place. Wouldn't have her any other way. But when you're a P.I. here, it really gets you down. It's something you'd expect from the job, though. Kinda feels like crying over spilled milk."
He opened a drawer in his desk, and suddenly flew into a rage. "Waaugh!" he squawked. "Scrapper! What did you do with the Rigellian liqueur I've been saving?"
"Don't look at me!" Scrapper 142 called through the doorway.
"Alcoholics," Howard muttered to himself. "They'll backstab ya worse than mother-in-laws. Guess it'll be straight whiskey today." He pulled a bottle of whiskey out from under the counter and two glasses, pouring himself and Donnie a drink. "Yet I look in my office and what do I see?" he went on, gesturing at the papers strewn across his desk. "Cases half-finished. I promised the victims of those cases justice, and I try to be a duck of my word. But new cases come up and I have to leave 'em there, and before I can even get an inch closer on either case, a new one pops up out of nowhere." He held out one of the glasses. "Whiskey?"
"No thanks," said Donnie.
Howard shrugged and took a sip of the drink, then got up and moved over to the window. "And then I decide to look outside, and it doesn't look that well," he continued, as Donnie walked over to the window next to him. "Crimes constantly crashing into my city carelessly, vandals breaking into houses near and far, blood flowing down on the gutters, cold cases freezing over as time goes on, scum written on the palms of the ones that uphold the law, ladies becoming prostitutes in the blink of an eye, and bullets flying all over the place just like an annoying flock of birds." He glanced at Donnie. "Sometimes I see the sky covered with dark clouds and I just think God's trying to cover us up.
"But I try to think positive about this place," he said, walking back over to the desk. "I go to a bar and drown my depression with cheap booze, and then go home half drunk and sit on my couch and revert back to my cynical state, knowing that my job will never be done. But I know it'll never be done. I just want that moment where I feel as though it is done. All the cases wrapped up, and my tired, booze-ridden body resting for just a few minutes before the next crime comes up. But it's not going to happen. I just have to continue only getting part of the way through."
Howard let out a long sigh, sitting back in the chair. "So," he said, looking out under the brim of his hat at Donnie, "you're wondering why I think this place is nice."
"It did cross my mind, yes," Donnie said.
Howard grinned. "Well, kid, the view from my office ain't half bad if you find the right day. And there's just something about walking down the city at night, as the flickering street lights shine down onto you. It just captivates me somehow. Why? Why I'll never know." He let out another sigh, downing the rest of his drink. "So what can I do for you, Mr . . . ?"
"Donatello," said Donnie. "And I'm looking for my brother."
Howard took out a pencil and a pad of paper. "Description?"
"About 5 foot 1, bright blue eyes with a matching bandanna," Donnie said, as Howard scribbled down details. His name is Leonardo, but he goes by Leo. Never goes anywhere without his two katanas. He's right-handed. He loves Space Heroes. And his shell has a little wear and tear, but nothing stand-outish."
Howard looked up. "Shell?" he echoed.
"Yeah," Donnie said. "He's like me. We're genetically altered turtles."
"Just when you think you've seen everything," Howard said, going back to his notepad. "Where did you last see him?"
"On Berhert," said Donnie. "We tracked the bracelet here; it belonged to him. We think he's still on the planet somewhere."
"Got it." Howard closed his pad. "Well, you, kid, came to the right place. I'll take the case and reunite you with your uncle—"
"Brother," Donnie corrected.
"—brother," Howard said, "before ya know it. My fee is $60 an hour, no deposit required, and ya don't have to pay if I can't solve the case. Just leave your contact information with Scrapper on the way out."
"Thank you," said Donnie. "Seriously." He got up to leave, walking out back towards the counter.
Scrapper grinned at him as he walked out. "Howard'll grow on you," she said.
"I sure hope so," Donnie said, grinning. "Our ship is docked at the spaceport."
"We'll have a look around and check out some leads," Scrapper said. "Let's meet tonight, at the coliseum. The Grandmaster's holding the final event of the Contest of Champions tonight. One last gladiator battle. The champion versus the rising newcomer. It should be good."
"Sounds good," said Donnie. "We'll bring the rest of our crew." There was an awkward pause, before he asked cautiously: "So . . . you're Asgardian, huh?"
Scrapper 142's gaze fell, and she turned away. "I was," she said briskly. "A long time ago. Not anymore."
"I'm sorry about what happened to your world," Donnie said.
She glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
"Ragnarok happened," Donnie explained. "Loki's army destroyed Asgard, maybe for good unless we can bring it back."
For a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of sadness cross Scrapper 142's face, but it was quickly replaced by a nonchalant expression. "Best of luck," she said, opening a bottle of whiskey and taking a long swill.
"Donatello, what do you think of this?" Thor interrupted. He'd come in from the other room, holding up a ridiculously large broadsword.
Donnie wrinkled his nose. "For you?"
"Maybe."
"I don't see it, Thor."
Thor looked up at the purple turtle in surprise, as if Donnie had just personally insulted him. "What don't you see?"
"It's not you," he said, shrugging.
Thor grinned. "You don't know me that well." He turned to Scrapper. "How much?"
Leo awoke to find himself being brutally shoved through the doorway back into his cell. "Hey, congrats, man," said Korg as he entered. "I saw your fight. You did good. You're lucky to be alive."
Leo groaned, the injuries from his fight settling in at last. "Thanks to my ninja training and your tips," he said.
There was a clicking noise. "Oh, Leo, I forgot," Korg said. "Meet Miek. He's new here. Not much of a talker, but quite handy with the blades as you can see."
Leo glanced over to see a purple larva-like creature approaching him. The creature had a head and several stubby legs, but he had been fitted with an exoskeleton armed with blades so he could move faster and attack quicker. He emitted a clicking noise and waved at Leo.
"Hey there, Miek," said Leo, waving back. "How'd you end up in here?"
Miek clicked some more. "Dunno," said Korg. "I can't understand his clicking. The Grandmaster's guards dropped him off just before you came."
There was a moment of silence before Leo added. "Hey, Korg. How'd you end up in here?"
Korg leaned back against the wall, looking off into the distance. "I'm a traitor to the empire," he said. "I was once a respected Kronan warrior, but I disagreed with Grandmaster. I didn't think living beings and things should be made to fight for pleasure. We're free men! And women, and non-binary creatures too, you know. Can't forget about them." He sighed. "For saying such things, I was thrown into this pit."
"That's harsh," Leo said. The Grandmaster didn't seem like the shiny, happy-go-lucky ruler that the shimmering hologram in the center of the arena every night made him out to be. He was sounding more and more like a tyrant and a dictator.
"Yeah." Korg shrugged. "But I'm actually organizing a revolution, you know. Got all the gladiators in on it, even Miek here. Well, except the Olan-Day brothers. But other than that, we've got all the pamphlets printed and hung up all over the city. Any day now." He looked at Leo. "How'd you get here, man?"
Leo grinned mirthlessly. "I honestly wish I knew, Korg. I woke up in a chair going through some kind of introductory video. The last thing I knew before that was crashing in a ship."
"You crashed here?" Korg asked.
"No, on another world," Leo said. "How far away, I don't know. We were being chased by the Sovereign, and Dregg. Ever heard of them?"
"Not really," said Korg. "They don't sound like particularly nice people."
"They're not," Leo said. "We—I mean, me and my brother—had run into Dregg before. Actually, under similar circumstances. The last time we met, me and all four of my brothers were together. Our planet had been destroyed and we were trying to go back in time to undo its destruction. This time, it's just me and one of my brothers, Donnie. A crazy Asgardian god went and invaded our planet with an army, and we're trying to get home." He chuckled, a sad sort of hollow laugh. "Funny thing is, we were actually on our way home when the ship crashed and I ended up here. Now I have no idea if I'll ever get home, or what happened to the others, or even if the Earth is okay."
"Yeah, man, I know how you feel," Korg said. "I never had any brothers, just one mother. And her boyfriend. I can't stand him. But I love my mother, so I guess I know how it feels to worry about someone you love."
"Yeah," Leo said, falling silent. What had become of Donnie, or Sif, or the Guardians, or the others? What about Mikey and Raph? What about Splinter, April, or Casey? Or Tony Stark? Or Spider-Man? Was the Earth even still there, or had it been reduced to subatomic space dust like Thanos predicted? Maybe he'd never know. He'd be stuck here forever, until he either killed another gladiator or was killed himself.
The door slid open, and Topaz stormed in, followed by two guards. "You're up again, greenie!" she barked.
"Already?" Leo asked, climbing to his feet. He glanced at Korg, who looked away suddenly. "What's wrong, Korg?"
"I think I know who you're fighting next, Leo," he said quietly, looking back up at the blue turtle. "The Grandmaster's champion. Fight with honor, and you will find glory. A bit of a motivational speech there, for you."
Leo smiled wanly, a sudden pang of sadness shooting through him. He supposed that, in another lifetime, or under different circumstances, he and the Kronan would have made great friends. "Korg, if I don't see you again—" He paused, surprised by the sudden lump in his throat. Was he getting choked up? He swallowed hard. "Good luck getting your freedom."
"Thanks, man," said Korg, smiling back. As Leo was led away by the guards, Korg's face fell once again. "I might need it," he mumbled to himself.
Topaz glared at him. "You too, Kronan filth. You're up next."
The smell of the Coliseum was something Sif would never forget. The odor of unwashed bodies, the metallic sting of blood, the stench of death. It sank into the sand, oozed from the walls. It clung to the spectators as they entered the arena. The heat that emanated from so many people crushed into the seats, sitting on the stairs, and standing at the railing was almost unbearable.
"Come, Lady Sif! The show is starting!" Thor urged her, grabbing her by the hand and leading her towards the front row seats. Those were the cheap seats; not many people wanted to sit there and risk an angry gladiator throwing a spear between their eyes.
Donnie glanced around, searching for Howard and Scrapper 142. The annoyed duck soon appeared, shoving his way up to the Guardians and the Ravagers. "Stuck in a wall-to-wall crowd ain't my idea of a swell finish to a case!" he grumbled. "All I wanna do is give ya the scoop and high-tail it back to the office to grab some z's."
Scrapper 142 wasn't too far behind. "What did you find out?" Donnie asked.
"Well I got good news and bad news," Howard said, brushing the arms of his suit jacket off. "The good news is, your brother, Leo? I found out where he's at. The bad news?" He pointed to the arena doors where the gladiators entered. "He's about to come out of those doors."
They all turned to face the arena floor. "Wait, what?" Quill spluttered.
"How do we rescue him?" asked Sif.
"The Grandmaster imbues his fighters with these nasty little buggers called obedience disks," Howard said. "They zap you at his command, and if you step more than five feet outside the coliseum, you're toast."
"The only way to deactivate them is the mainframe in the Grandmaster's main chambers," said Scrapper 142.
"Alright, I have a plan," said Quill. "At least, the beginnings of one. It's pretty simple. Rocket, you, Donnie and Yondu head to the main chambers to deactivate the mainframe. Once they're down, give us the signal, and we'll jump in the arena and rescue Leo."
"Whoah, whoah, Quill," Yondu said, raising his hands. "I might have raised you like a son, but I'm still the captain. I make the plans." He turned to face everyone. "Alright boys, listen up. Me, Rocket, and the turtle will head up to this Grandmaster fellow's rooms and shut down the control disk things. Once we do I'll give the rest of y'all the signal, and you jump in there and rescue the blue fellow."
"That's a good plan, Cap'n," said Kraglin, and the other Ravagers nodded in agreement. Quill rolled his eyes.
"If those looneys catch you they'll rip ya from wishbone to pin-feathers," said Howard. "Maybe you can go around them through the lower levels of the coliseum."
"Do you have a ship?" asked Scrapper 142.
"Do I have a ship?" Quill snorted. "You mean you've never heard of the legendary Star-Lord?"
"Who?"
Quill shut his eyes, stamping his foot in frustration. "Every time," he muttered. "Every single time."
"If you've got a ship, you can bring it down into the arena to pick up your brother," Scrapper 142 told Donnie. "No aerial defenses. But if you wait too long, the Grandmaster's pilots will be on you."
"Kraglin, you and the rest of the crew wait in orbit with the Eclector," said Yondu.
"Gamora, Mantis, you two are with me," Quill said. "We'll pick everyone up in the Milano and rendezvous back at the Eclector."
"What will you two do?" asked Donnie, turning to Howard and Scrapper 142.
Howard spread his wings defensively. "Hey, hey now," he said. "I may be a duck of many talents, but going up against the Grandmaster ain't something I'm too keen to ruffle my feathers with. 'Sides, I've got places to be and cases to solve."
Donnie glanced at Scrapper 142. "Scrapper?"
"Like Howard said," she said, shrugging. "Besides, it's not exactly our fight."
"But we need your help!" Donnie said. "We're trying to save your—"
His sentence was cut short as Scrapper 142 pinned him to the wall, grabbing a knife from her belt and holding its tip under his chin. "Let's get something straight, turtle," she hissed. "Asgard is not my home. And I don't have to help you if I don't want to. I'm one of the Grandmaster's acquisition specialists. That means I report to him. So if I help you, that means now my neck is on the chopping block."
"I don't know who you are, lady," Yondu growled, "but nobody attacks my crew." He let out a low whistle, and the golden Yaka arrow he always kept with him flew from its holster and hovered near Scrapper 142's temple. "Let Donnie go."
She glanced at the arrow before letting Donnie go. "Sorry," she said coldly, turning to Howard. "I think it's time we were off."
She headed out of the arena, as Howard looked apologetically at the team. "Alcoholics," he said. "They can be pretty irritable. Sorry about that. Good luck, guys." He hurried off after Scrapper 142.
Grandmaster sat in the VIP suite of the arena, surrounded by his entire retinue. The party was in full swing, as dignitaries and criminal overlords from all over the galaxy sat with the Grandmaster, waited on hand and foot by luxury droids.
Topaz entered the room, moving her face close to Grandmaster's ear. "Sir," she said, "guards report that Yondu and his Ravagers have docked at the spaceport."
Grandmaster held up his hand, shushing Topaz. "Topaz, I can't be bothered with this," he said. "We're about to start the last fight. You just—take care of it."
"But sir," Topaz said, "they brought with them two Asgardians. And an alien of the same species as the terrapin warrior."
"The same as him, you say?" Grandmaster stroked his chin thoughtfully. Something was up. He could feel it in his gelled-back hair. "Double the guards near the gladiator pits, and send someone to the mainframe generator," he said. "I want my obedience disks at 100% charge."
"Yes, sir," Topaz said, heading out the door as a small smile appeared on her thin lips. Guards had seen Scrapper 142 cavorting with the criminals in the arena. She despised that woman. Maybe because the female Asgardian reminded her of herself, during her younger days. Or maybe it was that nauseatingly smug attitude towards just about everything. Regardless, once the criminals were dealt with, she would enjoy seeing what kind of punishment the Grandmaster would cook up for the pest.
"And while you're at it," Grandmaster called, "grab a breathmint." He winced, turning back to the stadium and grabbing the microphone. "Yeesh."
"Look, old man—" Rocket muttered.
"Told ya not to call me that," Yondu said through clenched teeth.
"You wanna act old, I'll call you old," Rocket hissed back.
"I ain't acting old, boy!"
"Sure, you are," Rocket said, glaring at Yondu. "You're acting senile."
"Shut up!" Donnie hissed. The three of them had their backs pressed to the wall outside the generator room. All he could hear was those two yammering. "You're going to blow our cover."
"How are we supposed to get in there?" Yondu asked.
Donnie peered around the corner, spotting the Sakaaran guard outside the door of the room. "We'll have to be quick," he said. "I can throw a ninja star and distract—"
There was a low whistle, and the guard dropped dead as a flash of golden light leaped across the room and back into Yondu's holster. "Done," he said. "Let's go."
"Or—that could work," Donnie added. The three of them advanced on the generator room as Rocket hopped onto the wall so he was on the same height as the control panel, pressing buttons until he'd unlocked the door. It slid open, and they rushed inside.
At the center of the room was a giant generator with a control panel on it. Topaz stood in front of it, flanked by eight Sakaaran guards. "Double the guards," she said. "There's going to be a revolution, and the Grandmaster wants the disks fully operational." She turned, spotting the intruders, and her mouth dropped in shock.
"Maintenance?" Donnie asked, smiling disarmingly.
"Get them!" Topaz shouted, aiming her staff at the intruders. The Sakaaran guards charged into the room, their laser staffs shooting blaster bolts out the tips. The heroes took cover behind the generator, as Rocket drew a pair of twin blaster pistols from his holsters. "Now this is my kind of plan!" he laughed, popping out from cover to blast at the guards.
"Donnie!" Yondu yelled over the noise. "How long is it gonna take ya to deactivate this generator?"
"Depends!" Donnie yelled back. "I'll need time!"
"We'll give you time!" Yondu shouted, letting out a high-pitched whistle as his Yaka arrow flew from its holster and buried itself in one of the guard's chests. His whistle took out two more guards before a lucky shot from one of them struck Yondu and he was down.
"Yondu!" Donnie shouted, running over. "You okay?"
Yondu groaned, his red head fin sparking as its electronics had been destroyed by the shot. "I'll live, kid," he said. "My arrow ain't gonna work without the fin, though."
Rocket scampered out from behind the generator and ran across the room, blasting at the guards. Their aim was terrible. "Shoot that vermin, you idiots!" Topaz screamed.
In all the hullabaloo Donnie had crept around to the front of the generator and worked frantically to deactivate it. "Come on, come on," Donnie hissed, talking to himself as he pressed buttons. "Come on, Donnie—think. Celestial language . . . probably has a dozen tripwires . . ." He tried entering a combination, and a large red text box covered the entire screen reading ACCESS DENIED. "Don't need to understand Celestial speak to know red lights mean bad," he swallowed.
"Don, hurry it up!" Rocket shouted.
"Okay," said Donnie. "Brains failed, so . . . brute force it is!" He started grabbing wires, tearing them out in handfuls. The generator's electronic panels flickered, then went dark, and a low humming noise filled the room as the generator shut off. "Yes!" Donnie cheered. "Generator is offline!" He spun his bo staff and walloped a Sakaaran guard in the head with it.
"Fools!" Topaz spat, swinging her staff at Donnie. "The Grandmaster has a backup in his chambers. You have stopped nothing!" She tried to hit Donnie with her melter staff, but he blocked the blow with his bo staff and then dropped, sweeping his staff low and knocking Topaz off her feet.
"Grandmaster's chambers?" Rocket said. "That's where we're going?"
"We can't let him reactivate the obedience disks," Donnie said.
Yondu grabbed one of the guards' blaster staffs. "Then let's quit yapping and get over there!" he said, cocking his weapon as the three of them rushed out of the room.
Leo slid his katanas into their sheaths, lowering the visor over his helmet as the stone doors creaked open, and the arena lights blinded him. "And now, the vile mutant terrapin faces his Kronan champion," the Grandmaster announced. "The great, the merciless, Korg the Undefeatable!"
Wait, Leo thought, did he just say—?
"Korg! Korg! Korg! Korg!" the crowd in the coliseum roared.
At the other end of the arena, Leo was pushed onto the floor. The giant stone doors shut behind him, trapping him inside with his opponent. He looked across the arena and saw the giant Korg staring back at him, his arms and legs of stone, his expression one of grim determination. The time had come again to fight, and not for the first time, Leo doubted himself. "Korg!" he called. "Is that really you!?"
Would this be his end? Would he ever make it back to Earth? No, he thought. There is no time for doubt. There was only time for fighting. But how could he fight his friend?
Korg made his way toward the middle of the arena and stopped. He nodded and offered his hand to the mutant turtle.
Leo's spirits rose, thankful that Korg would show any kind of manners in the fight. Using every bit of strength he could, he stood up and approached the Kronan. The crowd fell silent as the two gladiators met.
Korg's face fell and he leaned down to whisper into Leo's ear. "I'm sorry man. I didn't mean to trick you."
Quicker than light, Korg's enormous fist knocked Leo off his feet and sent him flying across the arena. The crowd roared in delight. "But now we meet as Grandmaster commands, in glorious battle!" Korg yelled.
Before he could catch his breath, Leo saw the Kronan charging at him like a rhinoceros. Seeing no way out, he attempted to flip up and over Korg. He ran toward Korg and jumped. However, because Leo was weak, his jump was not high enough. Korg grabbed him by his leg and swung him around in a circle, making Leo dizzy. Korg let go, and Leo went flying into the stone wall of the arena.
Korg watched Leo recover from across the arena and felt sadness and despair swell within his heart. He'd grown to think of the turtle creature as a friend, maybe even a brother. But he didn't have a choice. Beating Leo was the only way to win his freedom. He slowly approached the blue turtle, taking his time and letting Leo recover from the pain.
"The people of Sakaar demand a fight to the end. Won't you give it to us, Shinobi Terrapin?" asked the Grandmaster over the intercom. The crowd shouted, voicing their agreement.
Leo looked up into Korg's eyes, betrayal written all over his face. "I can't fight you!" he cried.
"You fight with honor, Leo. You deserve a warrior's end." Tears filled Korg's eyes as he once again punched Leo with his rocky fists. Leo tried his best to roll with each punch. But he was weak; he was no match for Korg's power.
The crowd clapped and cheered as they watched the match. Out of breath and out of energy, Leo's eyes blurred as Korg grabbed him and lifted him up to give him one last bit of advice. "Maybe I'll only chop off a limb or two."
"What?!" Leo gasped through his pain. "H-How is that better?!"
"Sorry man," said Korg, giving Leo a small mirthless smile. "Just an arena combat joke for you. Poorly timed at that." He slammed Leo into the ground. "I'm sorry about this," he whispered.
The crowd cheered as Korg took a few steps back. He stopped for a moment. This was the defeat that would finally get him his freedom, but it was the hardest one he'd ever had to do. He closed his eyes, threw his head back, and took a deep breath. But as he opened his eyes, he was shocked to see Leo on his knees in front of him, katanas thrown aside.
"Wait, Korg!" the blue turtle pleaded. "We're friends! We want the same things, like freedom and getting rid of the Grandmaster! Please! The fate of my planet is at stake."
The people had softly began chanting. The chant kept building until it became a roar that filled the stadium. "No mercy! No mercy! No mercy!"
Korg paused. Is that really what these people want? he thought. He looked out at the crowd: The people stared right back. It was clear—they wanted Leo's death. Here was a noble turtle warrior, who wouldn't raise a weapon against someone he'd known for not even half a month. Someone who called him a friend. But they didn't care. They wanted destruction, because it was all they knew. The chant grew louder and more demanding.
"Do it, Korg," the Grandmaster said. "Finish the terrapin warrior, and you will regain your place as my Champion. And," he added, "you will finally have earned your freedom."
Korg raised his stone club over his head, and Leo closed his eyes, praying for a swift end. The crowd swelled, and then to everyone's surprise Korg threw his club at the Grandmaster's booth with all the force he could muster. The Grandmaster's ever-present smile wavered as he saw the weapon hurtling towards him and dived off the long couch. The exclusive guests he'd invited into his booth screamed and ran for cover as Korg's club struck the far wall of the booth, causing it to partially collapse and fill the booth with rubble.
The sound rocked the stadium, and the chant stopped. The audience stood mesmerized. The Grandmaster stared in shock at the club, as if he couldn't believe it. Then he turned, funneling all of his anger and rage into the stone gladiator standing in the middle of the arena. "You dare?!"
Korg pointed at Leo, who still knelt on the floor of the stadium unmoving. "This here is an honorable warrior," he said. "The most honorable warrior to ever have fought in this arena before ever. Killing him is not something I can do." Korg turned to face the other members of the audience as he continued talking: "We are free people. We are free to make our own choices, not to be enslaved by the Grandmaster to make our choices for us. To tell us where we can go, what times we can eat, and who we must fight. We no longer need these contests to tell us who the strongest among us is. Each and every one of us is strong. It's up to us to rebuild this planet brick by brick. The days of the Grandmaster are over!"
The people of Sakaar had never known such bravery and wisdom. Though they knew it would take a long time to change, and they all wanted to be free, none of them dared stand up against the Grandmaster.
The Grandmaster grabbed his obedience disk remote. Time to end this motivational speech. He aimed it at Korg and Leo and pressed the button, the setting on high. The device made a click, and nothing happened. He pressed it again and again, confused. Had something gone wrong with the generators?
Korg saw the Grandmaster hesitate. Something had gone wrong with the obedience disks. This was their chance! "Look!" he shouted, pointing excitedly. "The Grandmaster's control over the fighters is gone! We are free! The revolution has begun, brothers and sisters! Take arms with me and fight!"
"Get them, guards!" Grandmaster shouted before turning to one of his soldiers. "How long before backup power comes on?" he asked.
"Two minutes, sir," the guard replied.
"Excellent," Grandmaster said, his smile returning to his relieved face. A two-minute revolution was something his kingdom could endure. And it would crush the spirits of the revolutionaries even more to think they had a chance. "Time to enjoy the show."
Howard and Valkyrie walked briskly away from the stadium, down the streets of Sakaar City. Howard walked nervously; he knew better than to talk to Valkyrie when she was in this mood. Of course, he'd learned to never speak her real name "Valkyrie" in public or even in private; she was Scrapper 142 here on Sakaar.
"We never got paid," said Valkyrie, half to herself.
"But I don't see you turning around to go back and get our reward," Howard noted.
Valkyrie stopped dead in the middle of the street. "We don't need it," she said, but to Howard it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than him. "You've got other cases. I sell junk. Next time I take a contender to the Grandmaster I'll get a nice fat bonus."
"But . . ." Howard prompted.
She glanced at him. "I can't stop thinking about that Asgardian," she said. "Thor. The son of Odin. Prince of Asgard. Risking everything to save a race of people that don't care two bits about anyone but themselves. Why?"
"Who cares?" Howard asked. "We just met these people today. Don't get your feathers in a twist. If they're loony enough to go up against the Grandmaster—I mean, you know what happens to people who try that. They either get melted with the Melt Stick, or they wind up in the coliseum. This ain't our fight, Scrapper. What do you care about these guys for? They're mad! They ain't our friends!"
"But what if they are our friends, and we abandoned them to the Grandmaster?" Valkyrie asked. "What if we're mad? What if all that we have seen and done and felt in this nightmare of a galaxy has finally brought us to—rrrrrrrr!" She stamped her foot in frustration. "Damn you, Thor! Damned Asgard. Damned Asgardians. Puffy fraklans." She threw up her hands. "Alright, alright! Alright! Damn you, Thor. No one knows the Grandmaster like I do. I hope you're happy. You're ruining my life." She turned around and started walking briskly back towards the arena.
"Where you goin?" Howard called, but he knew what her answer would be. He put his hands back in his pockets, and started walking towards the office. Hmmm, he thought to himself. Maybe I oughta think this out again. His facial expressions turned grim and determined, and he pushed his hat down over his forehead. "What the hey!" he said, spinning on his heel and marching back towards the arena. "Life's been a cabaret; long, dull, and fulla Nazis! 'Sides, we never did get paid."
The smoke from the arena battle was blocking Leo's vision, and the smell of blood was starting to make him a little dizzy. It didn't help he was already weak from his battle with Korg. But he couldn't fall today. He had a feeling they'd make it out of this okay. The Grandmaster's obedience disks had failed. They had a chance.
He turned to one of the arena doors to see yet another wave of the Grandmaster's guards charge into the arena like the others before. Suddenly the guards were overtaken by a team of gladiators. Leo recognized some of them. No-Name, the Brood gladiator. Hakk-R, the cybernetically enhanced warrior. Miek, Korg's friend. They ran over to Korg. "We heard your speech," said Hakk-R.
No-Name hissed his approval.
"Look at that, man!" Korg tossed one of the Grandmaster's guards into the arena wall then turned to Leo, beaming. "I'm leading my revolution!"
Leo returned the grin. "Let's get you guys your freedom," he said, looking at the charging guards. The gladiators fought the guards back; relatively untrained, they were easy opponents. No match for the seasoned gladiators who had been fighting for most of their lives.
Leo cut down several more guards when he spotted a flicker of motion on the edge of the arena. He shaded his eyes, peering through the smoke and fog. Was that—"Drax!" he shouted. "Groot!"
Drax and Groot came charging through the smoke, and a group of motley looking aliens in maroon outfits ran behind them, blasters firing. "Leonardo!" Drax yelled, tackling Leo to the ground. "Fear not! We are here to rescue you!"
"I am Groot!" Groot roared, charging through the Grandmaster's guards and knocking them down like ninepins. The guards panicked, tripping over each other trying to get away from the mutated tree life-form. The crowd was ecstatic; they didn't care who was fighting who as long as there was some action.
"Rescue me?" Leo asked, getting up from under Drax. "You guys really came!"
"Aye, Leonardo, that we did!" a familiar voice rang out. He looked to the skies, spotting Thor flying overhead. He held Sif by one arm, and dropped her. She fell through the air with the grace of an eagle, landing on top of a Sakaaran guard and stabbing him with her sword. She looked up, and Leo had never seen a more beautiful sight than her on the battlefield.
"We would not dare to leave behind one we called our 'friend'," she said, extending her hand towards Leo. He smiled, taking it, and they fought back-to-back through the arena.
"What's the plan?" Leo asked, deflecting a shot from one of the guards' blaster staffs and throwing him over his shoulder.
"We wait for Quill to pick us up in his ship," said Sif, slashing at the guard Leo had thrown over his shoulder.
"I hope he hurries," Leo said, swallowing. Already more guards were pouring in. They were all great fighters, but they wouldn't be able to last forever.
Yondu kicked open the door to the Grandmaster's private suite, and Rocket rushed in blasters drawn. "Alright, nobody move!" he snarled, as the guests began to shriek and scream. "All of you stay right where you are. Hands where I can see them."
The Grandmaster turned to look at them. "Oh, wow, I can see you guys are fighters," he said, grinning broadly. "Prime specimens. You'd be crowd hits in the arena. Good food, plenty of fresh air, decent pay."
"Forget it, twink," Yondu said, glaring at the Grandmaster. "We ain't interested in being a part of your fight club."
Rocket shoved the barrel of a pistol under the Grandmaster's chin, forcing the man down on the couch. "Ya got three seconds before I blow that powdered and makeuped head off of yer shoulders," he snarled. "Where's the backup generator?"
"It's the red box on the wall," the Grandmaster said, pointing. Donnie moved quickly to the wall, ripping the panel off of it and unplugging the wires.
"Generator down!" he shouted gleefully. But their expression soon turned to fear as the Grandmaster's guards entered the room, staffs firing blindly.
"Watch your aim, you idiots!" the Grandmaster shouted, ducking behind the couch with the other heroes. "These furnishings were expensive!" He tackled Yondu, and the two rolled on the floor in a wrestling match before Yondu finally kicked him off.
"Heads up, horrible!" Howard the Duck suddenly sprang from the shadows, tackling the Grandmaster. "Howard the Duck is out to scuttle your scheme! Banzai!"
"Howard?" Donnie asked in surprise. "I thought you'd gone back to the office!"
"Nah, I decided to hang around and see the sights and maybe puncture a mad dream or two." The duck turned to glare at the Grandmaster. "Like yours, ya media menace!"
Donnie knocked a guard backwards with his bo staff. "Guys!" he shouted. "We're trapped!"
"Calm your shell, Don," Rocket said, turning and firing into the glass window, shattering it. "We ain't trapped. There's an awning below. Everybody jump for it!"
They ran for the window and jumped, as Howard watched in shock. "You're crazy!" he squawked. "There's no way I'm jumping—" He turned around to see the Grandmaster's guards closing in on him, spears pointed at his throat.
"K-Keep back!" Howard stammered, backpedaling quickly. "I'm warning ya—I know Quak-Fu!" He turned and ran for the window. "HALP!" he quacked as he jumped, landing on a canvas tent awning below and rolling into the stands. The crowd was too absorbed in the battle in the arena to notice them.
Howard picked himself up off the ground. "Jeez," he grumbled. "Ya know how many drinks it took to build up to that?"
"Thank you," Donnie said.
"Don't mention it," Howard said. "At all. If word got out that I was solving cases for free—well, I'd be out of business quicker than a kloo horn player."
Suddenly the familiar sound of 70's music filled their ears as in the skies above the Milano came soaring through the clouds, "That's The Way I Like It" by KC & The Sunshine Band blasting from its loudspeakers as its lasers raked through the Grandmaster's troops in the arena. "That's our ride!" Rocket said. "Let's go!"
They scampered for the arena, but Donnie hesitated, turning back. "You coming Howard? We've got plenty of room on the ship. We could use a detective in our crew."
Howard shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, Don, but I'll have to decline," he said. "My job ain't finished on Sakaar. But hey, maybe I'll swing by Earth sometime and give you a quacking hello." He tipped his fedora at Donnie. "Take care of yourself, pal."
Donnie waved back. "You too, Howard," he said, following Yondu and Rocket into the arena pit, where the gladiators continued to fight back against the Grandmaster's guards. The Milano circled twice before landing, the ramp lowering.
"Everybody load up!" Quill shouted, blasting at the Grandmaster's guards with his elemental pistols. "We're leaving!"
The heroes scampered across the arena towards the Milano. "Come on, Korg!" Leo shouted, slashing through a guard. "Let's go!"
"Can't leave yet, man," Korg said. "Our work isn't done. If we leave, who's going to help the Sakaarans get their freedom?"
"What?" Leo asked. "You're staying? But the Grandmaster will probably kill you!"
"That may be," Korg said. "But a brave gladiator I know taught me a lot about being willing to give up your own life for the greater good." He smiled at Leo, a tear falling down his cheek. "Now get out of here. We've both got worlds to save." He charged back into the fray, and was gone.
Leo swallowed the lump in his throat as he made his way back onto the ship, followed by Groot, Sif, and finally Drax. As the ramp closed, Drax turned to Leo. "Where are your warrior friends, Leonardo?"
"They're not coming with us, Drax," said Leo. "They're going to stay behind and fight for the freedom of the Sakaaran people."
Drax nodded. "Noble warriors, all of them." He clapped Leo on the back, who winced from the overenthusiastic pat. "But at least you are back in our company, Leonardo."
"I am Groot!" Groot said, hugging Leo.
"Thanks, guys," said Leo.
Rocket's nose wrinkled. "Yeesh, take a shower or something. You smell like the rear end of a frakkta."
"We're not out of the woods yet, guys," Quill said, as the Milano hurtled through Sakaar's atmosphere towards the Eclector in orbit. They had taken too long to get away; some of the Grandmaster's guards had taken off in their ships and were in hot pursuit. Laser fire from the pursuing guards deflected off of the Milano's tail as the heroes strapped themselves in.
"We don't have time for a dogfight, Quill!" Gamora shouted.
"If we wait too long, we'll be overrun and outnumbered!" said Rocket.
Suddenly the laser fire stopped as the Grandmaster's guards' ships exploded. Confused, the heroes turned to see an unfamiliar ship flying through the smoke after them. The comm system beeped, and Quill answered the call. "Your ship's tougher than she looks, Space-Boy," said Scrapper 142 over the comm.
"It's Star-Lord," Quill corrected. "And thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment," Scrapper 142 said, laughing. "I'm still not sure what brought me back here. Not sure what would possess me to risk my neck like this. But hey, it worked out in the end. Now get out of here and go save the galaxy or whatever. Oh, and Thor?"
"Yes?" Thor asked, leaning forward in his chair.
There was a pause, as if the bounty hunter was unsure of what to say. Finally she said, "Good luck getting your kingdom back."
Thor grinned. "Thank you, Scrapper," he said. "It has been quite an honor fighting by your side. If ever you need a friend in a moment of dire need, y—"
He stopped as they realized the comm channel had ended, and Scrapper 142 had turned her ship around, heading back to Sakaar.
"Ah," Thor said. "Right."
The Milano flew into the open hangar bay of the Eclector, which promptly jumped into hyperspace. The heroes exited the Milano, quickly being surrounded by joyous Ravagers. Now out of danger, they had time to celebrate Leo's rescue.
Leo was almost knocked over by Donnie, who barreled into his brother with a hug tighter than Leo had ever felt. It was on par with Leatherhead's strength. "Whoah, easy there, Don," Leo chuckled, hugging his brother back.
"You're still alive," Donnie said, tears of joy filling his eyes. "I thought we'd lost you."
"Like that time after the Technodrome?" Leo asked. "Or that time after the Kraang terraformed New York City?" He pulled back, staring his brother in the eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, Don. They can't get rid of me that easy."
Donnie grinned broadly.
Yondu and Kraglin walked towards the bridge along the catwalk overlooking the hangar, accompanied by Thor and Sif. "We'll drop you off on Asgard," Yondu said. Kraglin had outfitted him with a new head fin to control his yaka arrow, a taller, more flamboyant one, but still a translucent red in color. "It's on our route."
"Your men are brave warriors," Thor said. "I saw them in the arena. They would serve us well fighting to free Asgard."
Yondu gave Thor a sideways glance. "You crazy? We ain't getting mixed up with Asgardian nonsense. This is your fight. 'Sides, you look tough enough to handle anything back home."
Thor grimaced, glancing at Sif. They both knew that a handful of heroes wasn't enough to take down Surtur; they needed all the help they could get. Thor turned back to Yondu. "How much you want?"
Yondu stopped, turning around completely to face Thor. "Did I hear you right, boy?"
"You did," Thor said, nodding. He turned to Sif. "I am the new ruler of Asgard, am I not?"
"Yes, next in bloodline to the throne," said Sif.
"Which means," Thor continued, walking slowly towards Yondu, "that the royal treasuries of Asgard are now under my control." He stopped in front of Yondu, grinning. "Name your price."
Yondu knew a good deal when he saw one. "250,000," he said without batting an eye.
"Done," Thor said evenly.
Sif's jaw dropped.
A slow smile spread across Yondu's face. "You best not think about crossing me, boy," he warned.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Thor said. "Have your men meet me on the bridge when we arrive at Asgard. We'll formulate a plan then." He turned and led a dumbfounded Sif back the way they'd come.
Yondu's grin widened. All they had to do was fight back some crispy undead zombies and they'd be rich for a really long time. He turned to face Kraglin, who was biting his lip and shaking his fists in glee. "Yes!" he whisper-yelled.
Yondu walked past him, off towards the bridge. "See how it's done?" he asked. "See what I did there?"
"You are the master," Kraglin chuckled.