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A group of heroes squeezed into Arthur's compact spacecraft, shoulder to shoulder and slightly uncomfortable. The vessel had never been designed for large crews, thankfully, there weren't too many of them this time. Any more, and they'd have been standing elbow-to-elbow just to fit.
The ship soared into space, slipping seamlessly through a calibrated wormhole. After re-emerging in deep space, Arthur brought the ship to a halt.
Everyone preparing for the return to Earth suited up in specialized combat gear, custom-designed and enhanced with Stark Industries tech and SHIELD field modules. In the ship's main cabin, Arthur began sketching a teleportation sigil, etched in glowing circuits that hovered in the air like a hard-light construct.
He carved another outside the vessel, using the Disassembler System's energy pathways to teleport each member out one at a time, until they'd all arrived in open space.
That entire process, subtle teleportation arrays and wormhole exits, was done to avoid attracting cosmic attention.
Moments later, the flash of the Bifrost surged into view, bathing the space around them in radiant color. Before anyone could even say their goodbyes, the group had already vanished, whisked across the universe at light speed.
As the lingering shimmer of the Bifrost faded, Arthur's silhouette dissolved as well, vanishing into the void.
Meanwhile, in the ship's cockpit, Thor sat slouched in the co-pilot seat, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
"So… why are we going to see the Collector again?"
"Well…" Arthur tapped the console absentmindedly. "Still figuring that out, honestly."
Thor blinked. "Seriously?"
Before he could press further, the ship blinked out of existence once again, vanishing from that patch of space.
…
Based on Arthur's memory, the so-called Knowhere was no ordinary celestial site. It was, quite literally, the severed head of an ancient cosmic entity.
A monstrous skull, planet-sized in scale, now hollowed out and retrofitted with tech, turned into a space station that buzzed with life.
No one could say for sure what the original creature looked like, or even what species it belonged to. It had been long dead before modern civilizations began mapping the stars. Arthur vaguely remembered online speculation before his crossover, some fan theories about who it might have been, but nothing ever confirmed.
He never thought much about it, until now.
As the ship neared the Knowhere, an inexplicable urge surged through him, primal and overwhelming.
Thor, fast asleep in the second-floor lounge, remained oblivious. Arthur, however, sat in the pilot seat, eyes fixed on the dead giant's massive skull.
The urge was directed at that, the remains of a long-dead celestial lifeform.
It wasn't some impulsive suicidal urge. It was deeper. Sharper. Hungrier.
A phrase abruptly echoed in Arthur's mind like an ancient whisper: "Desperate times call for desperate measures."
Hungering after the head of a cosmic being, if that wasn't desperate, what was?
Shaking off the thought, Arthur rubbed his face roughly and maneuvered the ship toward one of the docking bays, following the beacon signals from the starport.
But the sensation didn't fade.
In fact, it grew stronger the closer they got.
"…What the hell is wrong with me?" He muttered under his breath.
This was new. Even when his body had evolved through disassembler-induced adaptation, boosting his metabolism and appetite, he had never felt like this.
Now? Now he felt like he could devour the entire Knowhere if given the chance.
"Why are you… trembling?"
Thor emerged from the upper level, stretching as he descended. His expression changed when he saw Arthur gripping the flight controls with white knuckles, his body visibly shaking.
"You look like a mortal who caught a flu. You alright?"
"…Don't joke," Arthur groaned.
"I'm starving."
Thor raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "You did eat enough yesterday to feed a battalion. Honestly, you eat more than I ever could, and I'm pretty sure you've got my father beat, and he once consumed a frost troll whole during a feast. How do you even function?"
"I have no idea," Arthur muttered. "And I'm not sure what's worse, being this hungry or discussing my eating habits with a Norse god in a flying space tin can."
Suppressing the gnawing craving, Arthur brought the ship to a controlled stop at the docking node.
Before disembarking, he activated a disguise, an illusion generator keyed to mimic Star-Lord's look, complete with the iconic mask and jacket.
Thor chuckled the moment he saw it.
"If Quill finds out you're parading around with his face, he's going to lose it… Actually, scratch that, his expression alone would be priceless."
Arthur didn't respond. He just stared down at the docking bay's metallic floor… and felt a sudden urge to bite it.
Something was definitely wrong with him.
He reached out and patted Thor's arm. "Something's off. Way off. You find the Collector. I'll keep it together until we're done and get out of here fast."
Thor narrowed his eyes. He could tell that this wasn't just about hunger anymore.
Not by a long shot.
At the moment, Arthur seemed to be caught in a strange, unstable mental state, and Thor was visibly concerned.
"Alright, I'll go ask for directions. Just… stay calm. And whatever you do, don't transform!"
Seeing Arthur like this, Thor got the distinct impression that a transformation could happen at any second, and so he kept repeating his warning with urgency.
Arthur nearly snapped, tempted to kick the Asgardian away on the spot. After Thor left, Arthur leaned back against a wall, closed his eyes, and directed his awareness inward, accessing the Disassembler System's diagnostic interface through his own consciousness.
To his surprise… everything appeared to be perfectly fine. The cluster of golden core crystals embedded deep within his body glowed brilliantly, radiating stabilized energy. His internal systems, both mystical and technological, were running smoothly, with no signs of corruption or overload.
"Wait… so it's not because of the core crystals?"
He frowned. Arthur had initially assumed this strange behavior stemmed from his recent upgrade to Major Gold Core Tier, a leap in power that altered both his physiology and essence.
But now, he wasn't so sure.
Tracing his internal flow of energy, along intricate channels resembling both meridians and Stark-enhanced bio-circuitry, he found that every node, every stream, every rhythm was in perfect harmony.
Everything was normal.
Except for that relentless, inexplicable hunger.
It haunted him, unprovoked, irrational, and impossible to suppress.
"Hey!"
Suddenly, a hand slapped his shoulder, jarring him out of focus. Instinct took over. Arthur spun, grabbing the intruder by the neck with lightning speed. Fortunately, he didn't follow through with the impulse to bite, he merely flung them away on reflex.
The person didn't hit the ground.
They were caught mid-air by none other than Thor.
"Easy, friend," Thor said, setting the figure gently on their feet. "She's one of the Collector's people. What the hell is going on with you?"
Arthur blinked rapidly, trying to reorient himself. "I… don't know. Why's she here so fast?"
"She came looking for us," Thor replied, keeping his tone level but concerned. "Looks like the Collector already knows we've arrived."
Arthur let out a breath and chuckled dryly. "Not a shock. He is one of the oldest living beings in the universe. Been around for who knows how long. With all those cosmic relics and his freakish intellect, I wouldn't be surprised if he's developed some kind of limited precognition."
Thor raised a hand. "Not exactly. He only foresaw me showing up, not you."
Arthur froze for a second, caught off guard. "...Wait, what?"
Thor gave a half-smile and a helpless shrug.
"Um… please come with me. Both of you," said the girl, her voice a mix of diplomacy and caution.
Arthur now got a better look at her. She was humanoid, but her skin had an unusual hue that shimmered faintly beneath the lighting of the docking bay. Rubbing her neck, she cautiously stepped back, casting wary glances at Arthur like he was a malfunctioning weapon that might go off at any moment.
She was probably right to be worried.
(End of Chapter)