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Knowhere. The Collector's Museum.
"The Cabbage Witch?"
Ronan the Accuser scoffed, the name dripping with absolute, venomous disdain. The raw, unfiltered energy of the Power Stone coursed through his veins, amplifying his voice into a god-like boom that shook the very foundations of the Celestial skull.
"With such power at my command, who in this universe can rival me?!" Ronan roared, his eyes glowing with blinding purple light. "Not to mention you, little girl—even if the Mad Titan Thanos himself came down from Sanctuary, what could he possibly do to me now?!"
Driven by pure, fanatical madness, Ronan didn't hesitate. He hoisted his Cosmi-Rod high above his head and swung the warhammer down with apocalyptic force.
BOOM!
A thick, blinding beam of pure, concentrated purple energy erupted from the hammer's head. It carried an aura of absolute, molecular destruction, tearing a jagged trench through the glass floor as it shot directly toward Hermione!
The beam of light bridged the distance in a microscopic fraction of a second. It was an attack meant to vaporize warships and crack continents.
However, faced with this wave of annihilation, Hermione simply stood still. Her hands remained casually at her sides. She didn't even blink.
Just as the roaring purple beam was inches away from incinerating her, the air around her shifted.
A faint, mesmerizing red light, moving and shifting like flowing liquid crystal, materialized out of thin air. It swirled around her in a protective, elegant helix.
Then, something utterly, terrifyingly bizarre happened.
The violent, boundless purple beam of apocalyptic light collided with the flowing red liquid. There was no explosion. There was no shockwave.
Instead, the moment the destructive energy touched the red light, it instantly transformed. The roaring purple plasma dissolved into thousands of delicate, iridescent soap bubbles.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
The bubbles floated harmlessly through the air, reflecting the neon lights of the ruined museum before popping gently against Hermione's dark robes.
It was as if that devastating, god-slaying attack had been nothing more than a child's daydream.
"..."
Ronan's maniacal laughter froze in his throat. His glowing eyes widened, filled with absolute, world-shattering disbelief and profound shock. He stared at the floating soap bubbles, his brain refusing to process the physics of what he had just witnessed.
Then, the realization hit him like a physical blow.
"The Aether!" Ronan gasped, his voice losing all its previous bravado. "Reality particles!"
Having just personally experienced the agonizing, terrifying power of the Power Stone, Ronan knew better than anyone in the galaxy how terrifying the Infinity Stones were.
This little Earth girl floating in front of him not only possessed bizarre, innate magic that had casually crushed Ebony Maw, but she also controlled the Reality Stone!
The harsh, undeniable reality of the situation instantly extinguished his newly inflated, god-like ego.
He could use the Power Stone to ignore Ebony Maw's telekinesis. He could use it to crush Peter Quill and Gamora. He could even be confident of going toe-to-toe with Thanos in a bloody brawl.
However, facing a 'Cabbage Witch' who possessed her own Infinity Stone, and whose baseline magical power was entirely unfathomable... it was suicide.
Ronan stood in the rubble, silent for a long, tense moment. The purple glow around his hammer dimmed slightly. Slowly, carefully, he lowered his weapon, resting the head against the floor.
"Kalanchoe," Ronan said, using the formal botanical name the galaxy had assigned her. His tone was heavy, stripped of its arrogance. "I admit, you are indeed very strong. Without the Power Stone, I am no match for you."
He swallowed hard, his eyes darting between her and the red liquid still hovering around her shoulders.
"But now that we both possess Infinity Stones... if we were to fight to the death here, it would probably only result in mutual destruction. Our energies would tear this sector apart, ultimately benefiting no one but that old Titan, Thanos."
Ronan looked at Hermione, his posture stiff, and formally suggested a truce.
"How about... we call it a day? You keep your prize, I keep mine. If you ever need me, I swear upon the Kree Empire that I will lead my fleet to provide you full military support."
Hermione tilted her head, her dark eyes unreadable. She tapped her chin with one finger, seemingly giving Ronan's proposal her utmost, serious consideration.
After a moment, the tension broke. She nodded cheerfully.
"Okay."
Ronan let out a massive, shuddering breath of relief. He gave Hermione a deep, lingering look. It was a look filled with profound apprehension, but also an irrepressible, fanatical excitement. He had the Power Stone, and he had survived the Witch.
He said no more. He didn't even bother looking at the Guardians or the Collector bleeding on the floor. He simply gripped his warhammer tightly, turned his back, and activated his personal teleporter.
In a flash of blue light, Ronan beamed back to the Dark Aster, fleeing the Void without looking back. He was terrified Hermione might suddenly change her mind.
The moment the Kree warship jumped into hyperspace, the oppressive silence in the museum shattered.
"You're just going to let him go like that?!"
Peter Quill's voice boomed out, cracking with outrage. He clutched his ribs, heavily injured by the initial shockwave, and staggered to his feet. He coughed up dust, his face twisted in a mixture of righteous anger and utter disbelief.
"Are you insane?! Do you know what he's going to do with the Power Stone?!"
Gamora pushed herself out from under a fallen display case. Her face was equally grim, her expression desperate. She wiped a streak of green blood from the corner of her mouth.
"Ronan is a complete madman!" Gamora yelled, limping forward. "The Power Stone in his hands is no different from it being in Thanos's! In fact, it's even worse!"
She took a deep, rattling breath, desperately trying to explain the catastrophic cosmic politics to this seemingly apathetic teenager.
"Although Ronan is a Kree, he has long since broken free from the Kree Empire's control! Even their Supreme Intelligence is helpless against his radical faction. The Empire might still be mindful of cosmic conventions and interstellar treaties, but Ronan is a zealot! He will not stop!"
Gamora pointed at the sky where the warship had vanished. "Once he fully harnesses the Power Stone, he will be another Thanos! And the absolute first thing he will do is travel to Xandar and destroy billions of innocent lives!"
Faced with the group's desperate, moral indignation, Hermione remained completely still. The red Reality particles faded back into her aura.
She merely raised a delicate eyebrow. Her face remained completely, utterly expressionless.
"Oh?" Hermione asked indifferently, inspecting her fingernails as if listening to a weather report for a planet she didn't care about. "And then?"
"And then?!" Quill almost laughed, the sound hysterical and fueled by raw anger. He marched toward her. "Billions of people die, you psycho! You—"
Before Quill could even finish his sentence, everything in his peripheral vision went blurry.
SMACK!
A crisp, deafening sound, like the crack of a sonic boom, echoed through the vast hall.
Quill's head snapped to the side. He flew backward through the air like a kite with a broken string. He soared horizontally for more than forty feet before crashing violently into one of the museum's few surviving, reinforced load-bearing walls.
BANG! Debris, plaster, and dust exploded into the air. Quill slid down the wall in a crumpled heap and fell utterly, blissfully silent instantly.
Hermione slowly lowered her hand, not having even physically touched him. She turned her cold, dark gaze directly onto Gamora.
Gamora's pupils contracted sharply to the size of pinpricks. The hairs on her arms and neck stood on end. Decades of brutal assassin training screamed at her. A primal, overwhelming sense of danger made her instinctively want to retreat, to dodge, to run.
But against spatial magic, it was far too late.
SMACK!
Another resounding, horrifying slap tore through the air.
Gamora followed exactly in Quill's aerodynamic footsteps. She was launched backward at an even greater, terrifying speed. She crashed completely through a shattered display wall on the opposite side of the room, embedding herself deeply into the twisted metal structural supports behind it. She slumped forward, her fate unknown.
"Quill!" Rocket screamed. "Gamora!" Drax bellowed, drawing his daggers.
Rocket Raccoon hoisted his heavy laser cannon, and Groot roared, stretching out his massive, jagged wooden branches to try and reach the Witch.
However, before they could take a single step, an invisible, immense gravitational force suddenly descended from the ceiling.
It felt like an entire mountain, weighing billions of tons, was pressing down directly onto their shoulders.
CRUNCH.
Rocket, Drax, and Groot were slammed into the floor tiles. They were pinned completely to the spot, unable to move even a single finger. Their bones creaked agonizingly under the immense strain, the pressure threatening to flatten them into the glass.
Hermione slowly lowered her hand. She began to pace across the ruined floor, the clicking of her shoes echoing like a metronome. A cold, chilling sneer played on her lips as her gaze swept over the crushed, groaning "heroes."
"Fascinating," Hermione said, her voice dropping to a low, mocking whisper.
She stopped, looking down at the unconscious Quill, then shifted her gaze toward the rubble where Gamora lay.
"An interstellar thief who makes his living by stealing artifacts, robbing graves, and scamming his own crew..."
Her dark eyes shifted back to Gamora's limp form.
"...and an assassin whose own homeworld was slaughtered, yet she recognized her mortal enemy as her father. You served as Thanos's loyal, bloody henchman for years with a perfectly clear conscience. Your hands are stained with the blood of countless millions of innocent people..."
Her voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a piercing magical resonance. It reached everyone's ears with crystal clarity, carrying a heavy, suffocating tone of absolute mockery.
"What happened?" Hermione asked, spreading her arms slightly. "Suddenly, you've both had a miraculous change of heart? Now you've transformed into the selfless guardians of universal peace?"
She walked slowly up to the wall where Gamora was embedded and looked down at the bleeding Zehoberei.
"You care so much about the innocent lives of the Xandarians today," Hermione whispered, her voice laced with venom. "But tell me, Gamora... where were you when the Chitauri armada invaded my home? Where were you when New York burned? Don't you dare try to tell me you didn't know it was Thanos's doing."
Gamora, barely conscious, shuddered violently against the metal. She opened her mouth, coughing up green blood, but couldn't utter a single word of defense.
Hermione was right. Gamora had been standing on Thanos's dreadnought, Sanctuary II, when Loki was dispatched. She had watched the invasion of Earth on the tactical monitors, and she had done absolutely nothing.
Hermione then turned gracefully on her heel and walked over to the crumpled form of Peter Quill. She nudged his ribs with the toe of her shoe.
"And you," Hermione scoffed. "If Ronan gets the Power Stone and burns a planet, the absolute first person the galaxy should blame is you. You are the one who stole it from Morag. You are the one who tried to sell it to the highest bidder on the black market. How dare you sit there on your moral high ground and blame me for not cleaning up your mess?"
Quill, regaining a sliver of consciousness, groaned. He opened his mouth to argue, to say it was different, but found that his throat was completely blocked by a suffocating telekinetic pressure. He eventually fell into a powerless, defeated silence.
"It's pathetic. Truly ridiculous," Hermione shook her head, her eyes turning completely, unrecognizably cold. "A female version of Shrek, and some Earthling Captain Jack wannabe, actually have the nerve to lecture me on morality?"
She raised her right hand. Her wooden wand slid smoothly from her sleeve into her palm. The tip began to glow with a sickly, dangerous green light. Her intent to kill was absolute and suffocating.
"Witch! Please! Show mercy!"
Just as the killing curse was forming on her lips, an anxious, gravelly voice rang out through the dust.
Yondu Udonta quickly ran out from a hidden corner of the ruined museum, his long leather coat flapping frantically behind him.
He slid to a halt, panting heavily. He first glanced cautiously, terrified, at Hermione. Seeing that she didn't immediately turn the green light on him, he rushed over to the groaning Peter Quill.
Without a moment's hesitation, Yondu raised his hand and slapped Quill violently across his already bruised face.
SMACK!
"You brainless brat!" Yondu roared, grabbing Quill by the collar and shaking him. "Are you absolutely tired of living?! How dare you speak to the Lady Witch like that?!"
Yondu cursed angrily, spitting on the floor. Then, he immediately turned to Hermione. He dropped to his knees, bowing even lower than he had on Xandar, pressing his forehead almost to the glass floor.
"My Lady, please, I beg you to calm down!" Yondu pleaded, his voice cracking with genuine desperation. "This boy has always been a complete, dim-witted idiot! He was raised in the mud and doesn't know any galactic manners! Please, be magnanimous! Don't take his stupid barking to heart!"