Since our rather… volatile entrance had likely been noticed, either by the "authorities" or by slavers (sadly, not all that much of a difference on this planet), I first asked Sterns to take us somewhere safe and out of sight before I explained to him where we were, and why we were here.
After the egghead pressed yet another button on Oliver's dashboard, the hills of trash around us turned into literal mountains in a flash, individual parts of machinery now larger than our truck. The change was so jarring and unexpected, it took me a second or two to realize that Sterns had shrunk us with Cross Tech, and we were now blasting away from our still smoking entry point, flitting through the space junk like a particularly speedy gnat.
After about five minutes of tailing it out of there (good thing too, because not even two minutes after we left, three different ships descended from the skies to check out the burning stretch of land) Sterns steered us into what seemed to be an engine block of some sort, which was sticking out of the remaining half of a spaceship (it was unclear what exactly had happened to the rest of the ship, but the enormous teeth-marks on the edges of the wreck gave us a few clues).
Setting Oliver down in one of the myriad of interconnected pipes, Sterns killed the "engine" and turned towards me with an expectant look on his face. It didn't take me long to explain to him that Sakaar was the trash-heap of the universe. Everything that was lost of forgotten would eventually make their way to this planet through the one of the many portals dotting the sky (it was probably where all those missing socks ended up, come to think of it. Perhaps every washer was secretly connected to a Sakaar portal?). Since we didn't know the exact location of any of the important planets like Xandar, we also didn't have anywhere to jump towards, hence why we ended up on Sakaar as well. The good part was that (hopefully) Sakaar had at least some knowledge on the rest of the universe, which would allow us to travel to larger hubs of galactic civilization, and gather more information from there.
Plus, of course, the possible hidden treasures within the trash heaps covering the majority of this custom built planet (both machinery as well as alien biology).
So, the plan was simple. Sterns and I would travel to the capital (it wasn't exactly difficult to miss) as inconspicuously as possible, find whatever passed for a library on this planet and then jump to a better staging area once we had the proper coordinates. In the meantime, Oliver would return to the wastes here, and start collecting data on everything and anything that came within reach of his array of sensors.
Hopefully, he'd stumble across something nice, but if he didn't then it wasn't a big loss.
In order to keep us under the radar, Sterns steered Oliver to the edge of the engine block we were hiding in, just far enough so that the truck could start scanning the vehicles flying overhead. After about fifteen minutes of this (during which about thirty ships must have passed us, varying widely in shapes and sizes), Oliver had collected enough data to layer himself in a holographic mock-up of one of the slaver ships that had passed overhead, though with slight modifications so as to avoid any possible issues of mistaken identity.
Disguise in place, Sterns waited until nobody was near us, before taking Oliver to the skies and quickly enlarging him back to his usual size, the holographic cover making us appear like one of the dozens of non-descript ships flying through the skies. Steering towards the capital, we took off, approaching our first major hub of alien civilization.
As it turned out, alien cities aren't really all that different from Earth cities. Sure, the architecture is different (though since Titan Solutions is rebuilding large parts of Manhattan, with Stark Industries picking up the slack, that might not be the case for much longer) and sure, we don't have flying cars (yet) and sure, the amount of non- or large humanoids is slightly higher here than back on Earth.
But on the whole?
Both are noisy, colorful and far too crowded for my tastes. Beggars line the streets, poverty trying to find shelter in the shadows cast by the high-rises of the wealthy. People are either hurrying past, caught up in their own lives and not giving a damn about yours, or they actively seek out to take advantage of you (within seconds of approaching the city limits, we were assaulted by dozens of ratty looking youngsters, who were clamoring to us that they could give us a safe parking spot, at a reasonable fee, and window cleaning thrown in to sweeten the deal).
A good example of both the startling differences as well as similarities between Earth and an alien civilization like Sakaar, were the advertisements. Just like on Earth, they were annoying and they were everywhere, aggressively getting up in your face and trying to force you to buy into their sales pitch. It wasn't the format of the advertisements that was different (after all, I (or rather, Hogarth) had already begun producing holographic billboards for the Asian markets), but what they promoted.
On Earth, ads could promote anything from cars to diapers. On Sakaar though, they only promoted a single thing.
"AAAAAARRRREEEE YOOOOUUUUU REEEEEEAAAADDDDDYYYYYYYY?! WE HAVE SEEN HIM BEATEN! WE HAVE SEEN HIM BLOODIED! AND WE! HAVE! SEEN! HIM! TRIIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUMPPPH! NOW, WATCH AS HE IS READY TO TAKE ON HIS NEXT FOE! HAILING FROM THE SHADOWY DEPTHS OF THE MAW CLUSTER, FEAST YOUR EYES ON THE BEAST THAT ALWAYS HUNGERS, THE SCOURGE OF SPACE, THE MALEVOLENCE THAT DOES NOT SLEEP! STAND AND TREMBLE, BEFORE THE KHARADAR!"
Sterns and I (still hidden under our cloaks) stood silently side by side at the edges of a small crowd, my large size and his oversized head not even drawing a second glace from those around us. All of us were staring up at an enormous projection, about the size of a large yacht, the roaring voice of an unseen announcer ringing in our ears. Displayed on the screen was a familiar arena, an overhead camera doing sweeping loops around the crowded stands and bloodied sands, before focusing on one of the gates. A mass of whirling shadows, teeth and baleful yellow eyes could be seen from behind the bars, the roar of the people in the stands (and those surrounding us in the crowd) growing even louder.
"WILL THE CHAMPION BE VICTORIOUS ONCE AGAIN?! OR WILL THE KHARADAR FEAST ON HIS GUTS?! FIND OUT TONIGHT! TICKETS ARE NEARLY SOLD OUT, GET YOURS NOW, OR USE YOUR PREMIUM SUBSCRIPTION ACCOUNT TO FOLLOW THE FIGHT LIVE! Anyonefoundtopiratethebroadcastandsellcopiesofthefightshallbeliquefied, thank you."
And with that, the ad came to an end, the hologram turning to a bland screensaver of twisting lights, before another ad began, this one promoting a fight this afternoon for a smaller league. All around us, various aliens (most of them humanoid, all of them tattooed with typical Sakaarian geometric patterns) were chattering excitedly to each other as the crowd slowly began to disperse.
For a moment, both Sterns and I stand silently looking towards the enormous screen, before he turns towards me with a flat expression on his face.
"I have some questions."
"Yeah, I imagine you would have. Go ahead, ask away." I grunt in response as I turn and start making my way deeper into the center of the city, where I hope to find a library of some sorts, Sterns falling into step besides me.
I'm distracted though, only half-listening to Sterns' questions and replying to them on auto-pilot as my mind keeps replaying the footage I have just seen. Because I now know who the current Champion of the Grandmaster is.
And he can prove to be very useful indeed.
"Alright, first off, what the hell was that all about?"
"An ad promoting a gladiator fight."
"These people still have gladiator fights?"
"The leader of the planet is a big fan. It's how this economy works: people end up stranded here, slavers capture them, sell them to the arena where they fight until they die, while the people who sold them pay whatever the Grandmaster gave them for his new toys in order to watch the fight, essentially returning the man's money to him. It ain't a pretty system, but it seems to work out. For the Grandmaster, at least."
"Damn."
"Yeah."
"That's messed up."
"Yeah."
"Are we going to do something about it?"
"… you know what? We just might."
"Ah, good. Good. Final question."
"Go ahead."
"How the hell are all these people speaking English, and yet have vastly different writings?"
"Universal translators. They're supposed to be pretty common, actually. Meaning that everyone is just talking in their own language, but everybody else hears them speak in their own native language. The writing is either Sakaarian, or some Galactic Basic." I explain, perfectly recalling all the Reddit pages dedicated to this very subject which I had trawled through for fun so very long ago.
"Though if we want any real answers, then I think we'll have to look in here." I continue, coming to a halt in front of a squat looking building, covered in a dull green paintjob and relatively little decorative linework compared to the surrounding skyscrapers.
"Why's that?" Sterns asks, coming to a halt besides me and looking the building up and down with a critical eye.
"Because I think this is the library. Or whatever the hell the alien equivalent of a library is supposed to be."
"And what makes you think that?"
"It looks barely used."
"… fair enough."
Fortunately, it was the alien equivalent of a library (they just called it the databanks instead). Unfortunately, it was the alien equivalent of a public library.
What this meant, was that we had access to some of the broader, common stuff, like a brief history of Sakaar (which was almost word for word the same as the intro video that Thor got when he was taken to the Grandmaster) and a long list of all the previous Champions, as well as some local maps which included some rough outlines of the turfs of various established gangs, though the territory lines tended to shift almost continuously. However, we didn't have access to anything higher-level than that.
Which included the coordinates to other planets in the galaxy.
It made sense in a way. Getting to Sakaar was easy. Getting out was the hard part. Yet there didn't seem to be an active guard surrounding the various portals, keeping the people stranded on Sakaar. It would make sense for the Grandmaster to keep any galactic maps to himself: after all, you don't have to guard a prison if nobody even knows the way out.
The portals could be traversed, but without proper coordinates, or an exceptionally long and near-perfect memory (say, like Asgardians possess), most people here with access to a ship probably thought that it was far too risky and decided to stick to what they knew instead.
It seemed that we would need to get our intel from a little higher up the totem pole of Sakaarian hierarchy.
I told Sterns to data-mine everything here that he thought might be useful, and after giving me a nod, he snuck one of his six robotic arms from underneath the hem of his wide cloak, plugged it into the terminal, and started downloading everything that could be of use to us.
Meanwhile I sunk deep into thought, idea's flashing before my mind's eye and being dismissed just as fast as I thought on my different goals on this planet and the apparent obstacles.
By the time Sterns had finished, I had a rough idea in place. I tapped my friend on the shoulder before leaning in, asking him in a low voice about Oliver.
"He's still out there, scanning the debris. He hasn't been spotted."
"Good. Has he found anything of value?"
"That's the problem. We wouldn't know what is or isn't of value. I had him scan for rare metals, and he checked back in with me about half an hour ago, having found enough materials to make an oil tanker out of. So yeah, the things we would find 'exotic' back on Earth are abundant enough here that we would crash the market if we brought too much of it back with us, and it's probably not worth all that much to the rest of the galaxy. If there's anything of value in there, then we would first need to know what the aliens consider valuable before we can even go looking for it."
"Fine. Tell Oliver to start collecting small amounts of as large a variety of metals as he can manage. Just enough to make a nice profit, but not enough to oversaturate the market. I have someone in mind who can tell us more about the valuables of the galaxy, once we've visited him, we can turn our attention back towards Sakaar's trash heaps. In the meantime, also instruct him to pick up any tech that's still working or seems salvageable. It might not be on the same level as the Kree, or perhaps even the Chitauri, but the more alien tech we reverse engineer, the easier it will be to crack the Blue Angels' secrets."
"Sure thing, Michael. Though I have to warn you not to get your hopes up: Sakaar really is a giant trash-heap. We'll be lucky if even 10% of all this space-junk turns out to be salvageable tech."
"Considering the risk is close to zero, I think I'll take those odds Sam."
"Your call, boss."
And with that, the scientist turns back towards his terminal, though he places one gloved hand against the side of his helmet, quickly sending Oliver new instructions.
Or just saying 'hi' to him.
With Sterns, it's hard to tell.
The worrying part is that with Oliver, it's hard to tell whether or not he's capable of saying 'hi' back.
So yeah, until I find out whether or not Sterns' vehicle is sentient or not, I'm not going to call Oliver an it, just in case the truck takes offence and we have a SkyNet scenario on our hands.
While my friend is learning all he can from the limited amounts of data in Sakaar's public library, I keep mulling over my plans, discarding and adding parts now that I know that immediate trade for materials between Sakaar and Earth (or rather, Sakaar and Othrys)might not be as lucrative as I had hoped for it to be.
So, an alliance with the Grandmaster has just dropped in potential benefits and usefulness, since the materials that he can provide are too common in the galaxy to be of any (monetary) use, while it's nearly impossible to resell them to Earth in bulk, since that would cause their value to drop immediately.
But I do need access to his systems if I want to make a targeted jump towards specific planets, instead of simply taking my chances travelling up the Devil's Anus and hoping to whatever deity is on my side that it doesn't end up dropping me in a black hole.
Meaning I have two paths before me now: either I can side with the Grandmaster, or go against him. The second option might be the riskier option, because even though, between me, Sterns and Oliver, our little group has a staggering amount of firepower, the Grandmaster still has an entire planet worth of forces.
Sure, Thor managed to get out, but he had a fellow Asgardian (a trusted employee of the Grandmaster who betrayed the immortal dictator) and a Jotun (God of Trickery and General Slipperiness) on his side.
On top of that, the Revengers merely wanted to get out as fast as possible. If I go the second route, then I'll actively be trying to get in, hack the systems, and then leave, all the while facing the Grandmaster's security forces (not to mention, one of the Revengers as well).
So the second option would only work if I followed the Revengers' example and incited a slave rebellion and use the ensuing chaos to get away unnoticed with the intel that I wanted (pretty much the same tactic that I had used in my earliest Steps when I was still a squishy human, come to think about it).
Now, why was I entertaining the second notion at all, instead of the far less work-intensive first option? Like I said, the ad promoting the fight tonight between the so-called Kharadar and the Champion had briefly shown me just who said fighter was, and ever since, I had been thinking about his possible usefulness to me.
After all, Beta-Ray Bill, Protector of the Korbinites, Slayer of Surtur's host in the Burning Galaxy, could prove to be a worthy ally indeed.
Due to the time dilation between Sakaar and the rest of the universe (Loki had been kicked out of the Bifrost by Hela only a few moments before Thor, yet had spent around two weeks on this planet before his brother arrived), I decided to take my time and not make a hasty decision. With Oliver still scouring the vast mountain ranges of interstellar trash unnoticed (it's amazing what being the size of a Hot Wheels toy will do for your stealth), collecting data and valuable materials, I decided to go see the match tonight.
Since my decision on how I would deal with the Grandmaster would largely depend on whether or not I could turn Beta-Ray Bill into my ally, I figured that I should see with my own eyes if the cybernetic alien lived up to his reputation before committing to either course of action.
Of course, lacking any interstellar currency (which are simply called 'units') we couldn't exactly buy tickets, so we… didn't. About twenty minutes before the fight was about to start, I grabbed Sterns and flew us to the top of the enormous arena, where I stealthily set us down on the outer ramparts (Sterns could have flown himself of course, but that would require him to use the thrusters in his armor, which might have drawn unwanted attention to us).
After that, it was a simple case of making our way to the back of the outer stands, our heavy cloaks (made from a mesh with camouflaging abilities, which I already had sold to the U.S., Russian, Chinese and Turkish military for criminally large sums of money) allowing us to easily blend in with the dark stone.
The few times that a guard or a spectator wandered a bit too close to our position, they would suddenly and inexplicably feel the need to be somewhere else instead, yet without questioning their sudden change of mind, leaving me and Sterns to watch the match in peace.
Far below and on the opposite end of the ring, the box of the Grandmaster could be seen, Jeff Goldblum strutting around in all his uhming and ahwing glory. The box was probably the only thing in the arena that was clean, its pristine golden and white appearance a clear divide between the opulence of the Grandmaster's personal world of wealth and entertainment, and the cobbled together appearance of the poor of Sakaar (which was basically everyone else).
Jeff seemed to laugh at something someone said in his box, before he turned to the howling and baying crowds, his arms splayed wide and a massive grin on his face.
"Ladies! Ladies and uhh… gentle… beings. Welcome! Tonight… I give you… my beloved Champion, I mean, he really is, he is such a wonderful being, I really am quite fond of him… my Champion… BETA! RAY! BILL!" the Grandmaster laughed, one arm clad in a wide glimmering sleeve thrust to one of the doors of the arena.
Intrigued, I leaned forwards a bit, my helmet easily zooming in as the great gate was lifted, and a figure could be seen standing in the shadows behind it. It slowly began walking forwards, until it left the shade, the harsh lights of the arena brightly illuminating his ochre-skin. Beta-Ray Bill, the equal to Thor, stood tall upon the sands of Sakaar's arena, clad in simple armor, a thick shield on one arm, a spear in the other hand, and what looked like the bastard offspring of a baton and a cattle prod slung on his back.
A helmet covered his elongated face, but his fierce scowl was easy to see to all. The spectators didn't seem to be turned off from his severe expression however, their stamping and roaring increasing even more in intensity.
As zoomed in as my helmet was, I caught the distasteful sneer that the Korbinite sent towards the Grandmaster's box. Following his glare, I saw Jeff Goldblum grin down at his cybernetic champion, widely gesturing his hands and tilting his head in the universal 'Come on! Get on with it!' motions.
If possible, Bill's scowl deepened even further. Then, he briefly closed his eyes in pained acceptance, before he tilted his head back, thrust his weapons into the air and unleashed a mighty roar that could easily rival either Susan or the Hulk in sheer power and savagery.
It was still nothing compared to the combined roaring of the thousands of aliens that went completely apeshit at the Korbinite's small display of showmanship (forced as it may be), waving their banners in a frenzy, stomping their feet hard enough to shake the entire structure surrounding the pit far below.
"Hehehe… yes, yes… he is… uhh… isn't he wonderful people? Yes, yes I know… … … however! We haven't, uhm, we haven't gotten together here to just… to just, uhm, look, you know? Haven't we? No, we haven't! We came to watch a fight!"
As the crowd roared their agreement, the Grandmaster simply chuckled in response, as if someone just told him a funny joke, while far below, Beta-Ray Bill slid into a guarded stance, shield in front of his torso, spear at the ready.
"Bill's opponent…! Is, uhhh… It is a… uhm… Topaz, be a dear, and remind me what it was called again?"
"Kharadar, sir. Beast that Always Hungers. Scourge of Space. The Malevolence that Does Not Sleep." A gruff voice bit out.
"Really? Huh… quite a mouthful, isn't it?"
"If you say so sir."
"Alright, very well. Tonight! Bill will fight… the Kharadar-thingie! Enjoy!" Jeff called out with a wide smile, clapping his hands together.
Almost immediately following his words, a shudder went through the arena as on the opposite end of Bill's entrance, the second gate was slowly lifted, the heavy blast-shields folding away into the walls. As the last of the doors fell away, the roaring of the crowd died down to silent whispers, everyone gazing at the pitch-black darkness with baited breath (including Sterns and I as well, to be honest).
Bill merely narrowed his eyes, and lifted his spear a bit higher.
Slowly, one by one, nearly a dozen yellow eyes lit up in the darkness, and a deep growl started to rumble across the sands.
For a moment, gladiator and beast merely locked gazes with each other, the air thick with the tension of the upcoming battle. Then, on some sudden, unseen signal, the Kharadar gave a hateful roar and burst out of the shadows, a whirling mass of tentacles, teeth and death.
It moved so fast, even I had trouble with fully taking in its bizarre form. It reminded me somewhat of the Abilisk the Guardians fought for the Soevereign, but… flatter, somehow. The Kharadar had less body, longer tentacles, and no real head to speak of. Instead, multiple large, lamprey-like mouths were placed along various points of its pitch-black, sinuous body, large eyes littering the spaces in between.
One leathery tentacle lashed out, and with reflexes that equaled my own, Bill managed to catch the blow on his shield, though he was shoved back several feet through the loose sands. Within the whirling mass of his opponent, I saw muscles tense and flex, and already knew what was about to come.
Either through his Korbinite physiology, cybernetic enhancements, or just plain raw battle instinct, Bill anticipated the creature's next move as well, shifting his stance to brace himself against the ground, keeping his spear low and shield high.
And not a moment too soon, because only seconds on the heels of the first blow, the Kharadar struck again, this time with a different tentacle. And it struck again. And again. And again. Each blow came from a different part of its main body, its course unpredictable, its speed sufficient to whip up the sands in its wake.
However, against the seasoned fighter, all they managed to do was push the Korbinite back with each strike, damaging his shield further and further, sparks flying whenever flesh met steel. Fed up with its prey continued survival, the Kharadar surged forwards, lifting up a majority of its many tentacles, along with the front end of its main body.
Beta-Ray Bill proved to be ready, however, raising his battered shield high above his head, just as five tentacles as thick as my arm slammed down on top of him, a cloud of sand blasting out from the impact. The orange-skinned alien buckled underneath the onslaught, but managed to keep his shield raised, keeping the Kharadar from crushing him into a paste. Letting out a roar that drowned out the many shrieks of the Kharadar, Bill straightened, pushing the tentacles even further upwards and thus exposing part of the monster's… belly, I suppose.
Not wasting a moment, Bill twisted, thrusting his spear forwards in a single, brutal movement, burying the metal tip (and much of the shaft as well) deep into the Kharadar's underside, spilling purplish blood. The creature screamed in pain, its many tentacles writhing with agony, but Bill's attack had also given it an opportunity. One arm raised high in order to lift his shield, the other stretched out in order to attack with his spear meant that Bill had no defense on his sides, and the monster was quick to exploit this.
A thick tentacle slammed into Bill's side, lifting the Korbinite Champion clear off his feet and sending him sailing across the length of the arena, making him crash into the ground with a painful sounding smack. Bill wasn't a fool, and immediately tried to get back to his feet, knowing that in the arena, standing still equaled getting dead. But the Kharadar, angered and in pain, wasn't going to let the one who hurt it so badly get away, and it was already upon Bill when the Korbinite had been forced to eat dirt.
The gladiator only had enough time to once again lift his battered shield, managing to block the first set of rapid fire strikes from the monster before it switched tactics. A heavy tentacle once again slammed into the twisted metal of Bill's shield, but instead of being batted away like all previous strikes, this time the Kharadar pressed on, the thick, sinuous flesh slithering across the shield and onto Bill's arm, much like a snake constricting its prey. There was a sickening crack that rang throughout the arena, making itself heard even amongst the din of excited shouting coming from the stands, and with a heave, Bill was once again thrown through the air, but straight upwards this time, instead of across the grounds.
As his momentum came to a halt, my eyes locked onto Bill's suspended form, time seemingly slowing down to a crawl. I saw the Kharadar jumping up after its prey, various mouths opened wide in order to devour the Korbinite when he came down again, the previously whirling tentacles now almost appearing as seaweed, gently swaying in an unseen current.
In that single moment, things seemed hopeless for the battered Beta-Ray Bill. His shield had been flung away from him, and even if it hadn't, it would have been quite useless at this point, appearing more like a post-modern art piece than a functional shield. Even wielding it would've been difficult for the gladiator, since his shield arm looked broken, or at the very least dislocated. The heavy strike to the side of his torso certainly hadn't done him any favors as well, the armor covering his body heavily dented and probably hampering his breathing (if he even had lungs, that is. From what I remember about him from the comics, his cybernetics were quite expansive).
As I analyzed the scene, I almost let out a sigh, feeling somewhat let down that a character that I had always admired in the comics would end up getting mauled to death in front of my eyes. I almost turned away in disappointment, before I saw Bill shift from the corner of my eye. Returning my full attention to his slowly falling body, my eyes widened as I saw something shift underneath the skin of his arm.
In a single move (which reminded me a lot of Nebula, to be honest) Bill's arm twisted and turned in a distinctly non-organic manner, the appendage snapping back into place. Continuing the movement, even as he rotated during his fall, facing the ascending Kharadar, Bill used that same arm to reach across his shoulder, grab the cattle prod slung across his back, and with a beautifully executed swing, slammed the glowing piece of alien weaponry hard into the side of the tentacle monster beneath him, viscera exploding from the impact point, covering Bill from head to toe as the creature was flung to the other end of the arena, crashing into its thick walls.
Under tremendous cheering, applause, feet-stomping and general noise-making, Bill landed back onto the sands in the classic three-point landing, stumbling only for a moment as he straightened.
Hearing cheering from beside me, I turn with a raised eyebrow at a wildly clapping Sterns, whose enthusiastic applause slowly dies down as he notices me looking. Dropping his arms to his side and giving a little cough of embarrassment, Sterns tilted his chin upwards in defiance.
"What? I'm just… appreciating a professional's talents and… work ethic… shut up."
I grin, but say nothing as I see that within the ring, both combatants have worked themselves back to their feet and tentacles again, though they're looking a bit worse for wear at this point. Blood is rushing from the two wounds Bill managed to inflict upon the Kharadar, but the creature's endless assault of strikes have taken their toll on his stamina, and the great warrior can't quite keep himself from slumping a bit as he stares down his opponent.
Once again, the gladiator and the creature merely observe one another, deaf to the screams that wash over the arena like a tidal wave of sound. The Kharadar, still possessing greater mobility than the battered Korbinite (sparks occasionally run up and down the alien's arm) makes the first move, launching itself towards the orange gladiator with a howl of pure rage. Bill, now without a shield, knows he can't weather the blows in order to look for a counterstrike as he had before, so he launches himself forwards as well, his boots slamming into the sands below.
When they are nearly upon one another, a tentacle shoots forwards, almost as if the Kharadar seeks to impale its prey. In a single smooth move, Bill falls to his knees as he tilts his head back, sliding underneath the attack. Twisting to the side, he swings his glowing weapon with all his might, slamming the superheated baton into the side of the offending tentacle, causing the Kharadar to curl the appendage close to itself with a pained shriek, slight smoke coming from the impact zone.
But the alien creature doesn't have just one appendage. In the time it took for Bill to complete his strike, three more tentacles streak forwards, two coming at his back, one coming from above. Using the momentum of his swing, Bill turns on his heel, baton outstretched, allowing one of the tentacles to fly mere inches past him. Finishing his turn, he slams his outstretched weapon into the second tentacle, once again causing the Kharadar to immediately curl it close to its body.
However, Bill isn't fast enough for the third tentacle, and it comes crashing down on his shoulder, making his knees buckle, and forcing him down to kneel in the sand. With an angered roar, Bill swings up his cattle prod, causing the sinuous appendage to back off quickly, but it seems the Kharadar now has the upper… tentacle (?).
With his attention upwards, Bill fails to notice a smaller tentacle lashing out from the underside of the Kharadar's body, snaking across the sands like a viper and grasping him by the ankle. To the Champion's credit, he immediately makes to swing down in order to free himself, but before he can start his attack, the Kharadar gives a violent jerk, which causes Bill to lose his footing and smack harshly into the ground.
As the tentacle around his ankle is reeled back towards the main body, the Kharadar itself lunges forwards, trying to cover Bill's body so that the various gaping maws along its underside can start ripping into the Korbinite's flesh. Despite myself, I lean forwards, my hands nearly crushing the metal railing lining the stands. One particularly large mouth, about the size of a dust bin, opens wide and descends upon the struggling gladiator, and this time I'm sure I'm about to see the demise of Beta-Ray Bill-
"Get off me, creature!"
-before the gladiator slams his cattle-prod deep into the gaping maw, smoke starting to pour from the mangled jaws as the Kharadar convulses in agony, its pained shrieks hurting my ears. Chocking and burning, the Kharadar starts trashing around as it tries to dislodge the three foot long piece of superheated metal shoved down one of its many throats, its multitude of tentacles lashing out randomly.
Several come close to hitting the prone Beta-Ray Bill, but the Korbinite is quick enough to dodge those that do, letting them hit the sand as he rolls around underneath the belly of the writhing Kharadar. In the split second that there are no tentacles about to crush him, Bill rolls on his back, draws in his legs and with a hateful roar kicks them out with all of his might, catching the Kharadar in its belly with enough force to lift it bodily of the ground and send it sailing a few dozen feet away.
Even before the beast has hit the ground, Bill has worked himself to his feet. He's without his shield and both of his weapons, and while his opponent is pretty badly wounded, it isn't out for the count by a long shot. Still, this doesn't seem to discourage the Korbinite Champion.
If anything, he looks even more pissed off than before.
With a roar, Bill rushes towards the struggling Kharadar at an impressive pace, probably at highway speeds, and certainly fast enough to take the tentacle monster off guard. It turns towards Bill, several of its tentacles coming around in wide swings in order to force the enraged Korbinite to back off. However, it's noticeably slower than before, and Bill dodges the first few with seemingly little effort, until one of the thicker ones crashes into his torso. However, instead of it simply flinging him away again, Bill manages to trap the tentacle against his chest, his thick arms swelling with cybernetically enhanced muscles, his boots sliding across the sands as the gladiator digs in his heels.
Coming to a stop, Bill tightens his grip, shifting his feet as he lets out a rage fueled roar.
And before my disbelieving eyes, Beta-Ray Bill heaves with all his might, lifting the Kharadar clear off the ground as it is swung in a wide arc straight into the wall of the arena, shattering the heavy stone with its body.
Dazed, the creature is in no condition to force Bill to let go of one of its tentacles, and as the Korbinite gives another heave, the Kharadar is reeled in like a particularly ugly fish that was hit over the head with a particularly large ugly stick.
As it flies towards Bill, the gladiator shifts his stance and delivers a beautifully executed Spartan-kick to the monster's body, while simultaneously giving a violent jerk on the tentacle in his arms. As the body and the appendage are forced into two opposite vectors, something is forced to give, and with a horrible tearing sound, the skin and flesh at the base of the tentacle rip apart in a violent mess of blood and tissue.
The Kharadar slams into the ground, spraying sand and blood everywhere, even as Bill falls flat on his ass, squirming tentacle still clutched in his arms. For a moment, both opponents remain where they fell, the Kharadar a twisting, bleeding mess, Bill spread-eagled and breathing heavily, the sparks in his re-set arm increasing in frequency.
Still, it is the Champion of the Korbinites who stirs first, Bill laboriously working himself to a standing position, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. For a moment, he sways on his feet, before he managed to find the will to stand tall, his murderous gaze locking on to the battered form of the Kharadar.
He strides towards it, each footfall resounding heavily in the now utterly silent arena, dragging the severed tentacle behind him, leaving a trail of slick purplish blood. The Kharadar is seemingly blinded by pain, and it only notices Bill when the gladiator is mere feet away. It tries to scurry away from the Champion, a tentacle coming in a low sweeping motion in order to buy it some time so it can create distance between it and what it now realizes is the true predator within these walls.
Its desperate escape is halted as Bill's boot slams down on the tentacle, pinning it to the sands, and thus pinning the Kharadar in place. As the Kharadar weakly struggles, Bill tightens his grip on the severed tentacle in his hands, his face pulled into a hateful snarl.
"I have had enough of you, vile creature!"
And with that, Bill swings the severed tentacle high above his head, sending it slamming down onto the Kharadar with an enormous crashing sound, the creature shrieking in pain and fear, as it redoubles its efforts to get away from its opponent, desperately tugging at the tentacle still pinned underneath Bill's foot.
But the Korbinite has gone berserk, and simply grinds down his boot harder upon the pinned tentacle, as he swings his macabre weapon once again, slamming it down on top of the bleeding Kharadar. The sound of bones snapping is clearly heard by all, but it doesn't dissuade Bill from continuing his attacks.
Again the tentacle is slammed into the Kharadar's body with tremendous force, knocking out teeth, popping eyes, breaking bones and pulverizing organs. Again, Bill attacks the twitching creature at his feet.
Again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Over and over, Beta-Ray Bill roars as he swings the severed tentacle, now more a whip of bone and frayed skin than an actual appendage, into the bleeding, broken mess of flesh that remains of the Kharadar's body, long after the creature's twitches have stopped.
Finally, after what feels like hours but was probably only a matter of minutes, Bill seems to come down from his Berserker rage, his chest heaving as he desperately gulps in air. He allows his makeshift weapon to fall to the blood-soaked sands, resting his hands on his knees as he slowly comes to himself again.
The entire arena is silent as they look upon the gore-covered form of the Korbinite, as he slowly lifts his head, gazing at the unrecognizable heap of broken flesh in front of him. Panting all the while in sheer exhaustion, Bill lifts one of his arms and examines it with tired eyes, the orange skin hidden underneath layers of purplish blood and scattered viscera.
As zoomed in as my vision is, I catch how his expression falls as the last few minutes of the fight catch up with the alien whose inherently noble personality in the comics had made him, not just worthy of wielding Mjolnir, but worthy enough to have Odin commission a separate weapon of equal power from the Dwarves of Nidavellir for him to wield: Stormbreaker.
Looking at the gore-splattered gladiator down below, I wonder what has happened to that Champion. The noble Champion of the Korbinites, instead of the savage Champion of Sakaar I now see before me. Judging by the way he once again glances at the mangled remains of the Kharadar, before closing his eyes with an expression that seems to be a mix of pain and guilt, he seems to wonder the same things as well.
When Bill opens his eyes again, I see the deep melancholy behind them, before it is overtaken by rage as he gazes up at the Grandmaster's box, Jeff Goldblum himself nearly glued to the glass as he is rapidly munching on what appears to be some kind of popcorn (except for the fact that it is neon blue).
Once again, the excited immortal makes a 'come on! Do the… thing!'-motion, and once again, Beta-Ray Bill has no choice but to follow his master's orders. Giving a disdainful sneer, Bill looks at the silent crowd, takes in their awed expressions, the banners with his face and name on it.
Then he straightens fully, raises both fists to the sky, and gives out a roar that causes people to start cheering in response, the arena shuddering underneath their violent excitement. The people call out to their Champion, but Beta-Ray Bill ignores them, turning on his heel and making his way back to the gate of the arena, its heavy doors opening in order to allow the champion to leave now that the match has been concluded to the people's satisfaction.
I think that I am one of the very few that catches Bill's brief glance over his shoulder at the mangled remains of his opponent, before the darkness of the gladiator quarters swallows up his form, the heavy gate falling shut behind him.
For a moment, I contemplate the enormous steel doors, tuning out Jeff Goldblum's voice as he soaks in the admiration of the crowd, while trying to rile them up, to get them excited for tomorrow's match.
Bill facing yet another horrible monster from the depths of space, no doubt.
I turn towards the somewhat subdued looking Sterns, my deep voice shaking him from his thoughts and tearing his gaze away from the corpse of the Kharadar as several workers have come in and began to take its remains of the sands, needing several trip in order to do so, due to Bill… not exactly leaving the Kharadar in a single piece.
"Analysis?"
"You mean other than the fact that all of this is messed up?"
"Other than that, yes."
Sterns gives a tired little sigh, before he faces me fully, one hand coming up from underneath his cloak, a small hologram springing to life above his palm. It showcases several charts, as well as small rotating models of both Beta-Ray Bill and the Kharadar.
"I've managed to take detailed surface scans of both of them during the fight, though due to the distance between us, I haven't been able to perform any deep scans. Meaning that I can tell you the exact number of eyes the Kharadar had, or how rapidly Beta-Ray Bill was breathing at any given moment during the fight, but I can't tell you what the Kharadar's optical nerves or digestive tract looks like, or just what kind of machinery is inside Beta-Ray Bill that allows him to snap his broken arm back into place like it's nothing."
"Estimation of combat capabilities?"
"Which one?"
"Bill."
"Well, like I said, I wasn't able to perform scans as detailed as I wanted to. However, I have been running simulations during the entire fight based upon my observations as well as all my collected data about you, and I can say with about 76.328% certainty that you would've taken the Kharadar out twice as fast as Beta-Ray Bill did, if not faster. Mind you, those are simulations where you don't use the Meteor Fist right off the bat."
My eyebrows rose in surprise at Sterns' statement.
"Really? Twice as fast? Damn."
"What can I say? You're a scary dude when you want to be Michael. Hell, you're scary even when you aren't trying to be. Well, that, and then there's the fact that flight is a huge boon in close combat."
"I suppose. Where would you rank him, put against all the races and enhanced individuals that we know of?"
"Since I can only guess at the weight and material make-up of the Kharadar, I can't really tell you exactly how strong he is in order to throw a creature that size around, or how durable he is in order to withstand multiple high-speed impacts from its tentacles. Assuming that the Kharadar weighed around the same as a small to medium tank… hang on, let me think for a sec… yeah, that would put Beta-Ray Bill at the absolute top tier of what we speculate races like the Asgardians or Kree to be capable of. And those estimations are on the safe side."
I let out a low whistle as I turn back towards the stand, resting my forearms on the railing in front of me, my eyes taking in the lounging Grandmaster, the cheering crowds and the crew trying to remove all the various bits and pieces of the Kharadar from the sands. My gaze shifts towards the heavy gate that Beta-Ray Bill had entered and left through, sunk in deep contemplation until Sterns' voice shook me from my thoughts.
"Michael? What are you going to do?"
As a plan falls into place in my mind, I turn towards my friend with a steadily growing grin, my eyes lighting up underneath the faceplate of my helmet.
"You know what? I think I'm gonna go have a chat with a certain someone."
Fun Fact: In the Thor: Ragnarok movie, Beta-Ray Bill's head can be seen on the Grandmaster's Palace. The other faces are previous Champions as well, showing Man-Thing, Ares and Bi-Beast.
AN: I'm cutting the chapter here, simply because I did not expect for this part to become so long (or to become so dark towards the end there) and I did promise that I would get this out yesterday. No promises on the next update however. Exam preparations is eating up all my time. Anyways, I sincerely hope that all of you spent a wonderful Christmas, and should I not upload before then, I wish you all a happy New Year's. Cheers!
As awlays, major shout out to my amazing Patrons, Miu, justlovereadin, Carn Krauss, ReapeScythe, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman, Fakhrurrozi and Samuel Carson! I cannot thank you guys enough for willing to support me as you do, so thanks again!