Marvel’s Disassembler

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But almost immediately, Arthur realized his earlier thought was off-base.

He and Ronan weren't friends, far from it, so what sentiment was there to weigh in the first place?

What did exist between them was animosity, plain and simple.

Still, Arthur didn't dwell on it. After a quick mental calculation, he teleported directly into the Warship's interior.

He had chosen not to Disassemble the Warship yet, and for two surprisingly logical reasons.

The first was admittedly odd, but still important.

He thought about the allies he'd stashed inside the Disassembler space. If they emerged later only to find Ronan already dead and his Warship scattered across the void, they'd be baffled.

What would he say to them?

"Oh, while you were napping in my pocket dimension, I performed a magic trick, poof! Made Ronan's flagship vanish. He didn't clap, so I made his crew float in space. They couldn't breathe. Classic."

Yeah, no. That would be ridiculous, even by his standards.

These people had traveled light-years to be here. He couldn't just let them sleep through the finale. They deserved a piece of the action.

The second reason?

Arthur had a gift in mind for Thanos.

He wasn't entirely sure he could deliver it, but if he could… well, let's just say it would leave an impression. And if not, then sure, he'd break the Warship down like the others.

Just the thought of it sent a spark of excitement through him.

Anyway, back to the task.

With a blink of teleportation energy, Arthur reappeared inside the massive Warship.

Unfortunately, his timing wasn't ideal.

Two Kree squads were patrolling the hallway, one on each side, closing in fast and boxing him in.

They saw him, definitely not Kree, and froze for a split second before reacting the only way Kree soldiers knew how.

Guns up. Fire first. No questions.

Arthur looked left. Then right. And vanished.

When he reappeared a beat later, most of the Kree were down, felled by their own crossfire. Only a few were still standing on each side, confused and shaken.

"I swear, the Kree military academy must've cut corners on critical thinking," Arthur muttered as he materialized.

He casually pulled out a pair of handguns and finished the job in a few quick, clean bursts.

Then, with a thought, he began bringing in reinforcements, starting with Thor.

Thor dropped onto the deck, unconscious, and Arthur briefly wondered how to wake him up before more patrols arrived.

But there was no need.

Thor's eyes snapped open immediately. He stood stiffly, knees locked, like someone rebooting from sleep mode, and glanced around.

"We're here?" He asked, voice gravelly.

Arthur gave him a nod and moved on to releasing the others.

Steve Rogers. Bruce Banner. Natasha Romanoff. Peter Quill. Gamora. One after another, the crew assembled.

Thor watched this unfolding with a twitch in his eye, then turned to Arthur with a sudden, uneasy thought.

"If you can do that... what's stopping you from sneaking a full army into enemy territory?"

Arthur actually considered it. "Depends on the size of the army. But a few hundred? No problem."

Thor's expression paled slightly.

He imagined a scenario, Arthur waltzing into Asgard, popping into the Golden Palace, and quietly releasing a couple hundred armed warriors to surround Odin's throne.

That mental image alone was enough to give any god heartburn.

Meanwhile, the gunfire earlier hadn't gone unnoticed. Kree soldiers across the ship were now alerted and converging on their location.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Thor gripped Mjolnir. "Let me handle this."

With practiced confidence, he strode down the hallway toward the approaching noise.

He got to the corner.

Then promptly came stumbling back, looking slightly roughed up, armor dented, hair askew.

He'd been repelled.

Arthur, still standing where he was, broke into laughter, completely unfiltered.

Thor's face darkened. He clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing.

"I may have… underestimated them."

After saying that, Thor charged out again, this time at full force. The sound of thunderous impacts and metal clashing echoed down the corridor. When he returned, his usual swagger was back in full effect.

By then, everyone Arthur had released was awake, except for Rocket and Star-Lord.

Oddly enough, the first to regain full awareness wasn't Thor, it was Groot.

Since Groot hadn't been unconscious when entering the Disassembler space, Arthur found it curious that he didn't come out looking dizzy or disoriented.

Was it something unique about Groot's physiology? Some kind of plant-based resilience? Or just an alien biology that handled dimensional shifts better?

Everyone soon found themselves looking at Rocket.

Natasha crouched beside him and observed, "He's out cold. Might be a while."

Then she turned to Arthur with a raised eyebrow. "Did you really need to hit him that hard?"

The rest of the team turned to Arthur as well, their expressions mixed with disapproval and concern. Thor didn't hold back:

"Is bullying small woodland creatures your new pastime?"

Arthur raised his hands in defense, looking genuinely sheepish. "I didn't hit him! Rocket knew he didn't want to get knocked out, so he gave himself a sedative shot."

Steve leaned in for a closer look, nodding thoughtfully. "That must've been some serious knockout juice. He's not waking up anytime soon."

With a sigh, Arthur tapped his wristband and reabsorbed Rocket into the Disassembler space for safekeeping.

The group's attention shifted to Star-Lord, who was still sprawled out, completely unresponsive.

"Rocket knocked himself out, sure," Clint said. "But what's his excuse?"

Arthur frowned. He had been careful with the timing, the Disassembler space was calibrated to bring people back to consciousness within a minute of re-entry.

So why was Star-Lord still out cold?

Gamora's brows furrowed, and her voice rose with concern. "Are you sure you didn't hit him too hard?"

Before Arthur could answer, a loud snore echoed through the corridor.

Everyone looked at each other. Then at Gamora.

Her face shifted from concern to utter fury.

With clenched fists and a murderous glint in her eyes, she turned slowly toward Star-Lord. The rest of the team averted their gaze, not wanting to witness what would undoubtedly follow.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Gamora's scream was so piercing that Arthur instinctively clutched his ears.

"Why?! Why is it always you doing something ridiculous at the worst possible moment?!"

Gamora bellowed, shaking with rage.

Star-Lord, still groggy, blinked and sat up. "Okay, but that doesn't mean you get to punch my little brother! What is wrong with you?!"

As the bickering escalated, the others simply covered their ears and tuned it out. Arthur, already losing patience, stepped between them and waved his hands.

"Alright! Focus up! We've got company incoming. I'm leading point from here on, everyone follows my orders."

Banner looked around calmly. "When do I Hulk out?"

Arthur checked the corridor ahead and said, "Right now!"

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Banner's body started to morph, muscles ballooning, bones expanding, skin turning green.

At that exact moment, a squad of heavily armed Kree soldiers rounded the corner, only to stop dead in their tracks at the sight of the transforming Hulk.

They hesitated for a split second, long enough to regret it.

Hulk, fully transformed, cracked a massive grin. "HULK'S TURN! You guys ready for Hulk's itsy-bitsy fists?"

With a bellow, he charged straight into them like a wrecking ball.

Arthur, sweat beading at his brow, tapped his communicator to Tony.

"Uh, just checking, what exactly is Banner teaching Hulk these days? Because I swear this guy's getting weirder by the hour."