An ugly, spider-like creature erupted from the ground, Garfield clutched in its multiple limbs.
It scuttled roughly a hundred meters away before stopping, turning to face Thor and the others.
Garfield's capture was clearly a signal.
Dozens of massive Kree warships flickered as their stealth systems deactivated, materializing in the sky like emerging predators.
From all directions, countless Kree ground troops swarmed into view, surrounding the area.
A small command vessel descended under the protection of hundreds of fighter craft.
Several Kree officers filed out and took position beside Garfield.
"What's happening?"
"What's going on?"
"Damn it, they've got Garfield!"
Thor tensed, ready to charge. But Angela's hand caught his arm, her voice a whisper.
"Don't. I saw that flea-bitten cat wink at us."
Thor blinked. "What?"
Loki stepped closer, murmuring behind a practiced smile: "Brother. The cat walked into that cage."
Thor: "..."
Yes. Garfield had done this on purpose.
The Kree, of course, had no idea.
One of their senior officers stepped forward, clearly pleased with himself.
In his mind, capturing this orange creature gave him leverage, a bargaining chip to use against three of the most powerful beings he'd ever witnessed in combat.
He didn't know the creature in his grasp was no pet.
Didn't know it wore an orange cat like a costume, beneath which lurked a mage of terrifying power.
Didn't know the being before him could unmake worlds.
To the Kree, a captured companion meant leverage. Even if you couldn't avoid a fight, you could at least dictate its terms.
"Asgardians," the officer called out, gesturing toward Garfield, "your... pet, the Great Devourer, is it? It is in our custody. Shall we talk now?"
Negotiation.
Thor knew his limits. He was built for thunder, not talk. He leaned toward Loki.
"You handle this."
Loki suppressed a sigh. This was delicate ground.
Odin was watching somewhere, probably from some hidden vantage, evaluating.
One miscalculation, and Loki's standing in the succession stakes would take a hit.
Especially since the "pet" in question wasn't a pet at all.
Even Loki, who'd just acquired a new magical ensemble, felt a twinge of envy.
He stepped composed and theatrical.
"Ahem. Kree." His voice carried.
"You wish to negotiate? You conduct secret experiments on primitive worlds in the back garden of great Asgard."
"You defile our dignity. The customary penalty is annihilation."
"But perhaps, if you kneel, confess your crimes, beg forgiveness, we might generously reduce the sentence to mere extinction."
The Kree officer frowned. He knew Thor by reputation.
This one, this pale, sleek one was unknown. He studied the dynamic, Loki's earlier ease with the cat suggested ownership.
Clearly, this creature belonged to him. That explained why he'd been chosen to speak.
Logical.
Sometimes, misunderstanding shaped destiny. If Thor had spoken first, the conversation might have gone differently.
"Asgardian," the officer replied, choosing his words carefully, "We know nothing of this 'Earth' you mention."
"We have visited countless worlds. But we are willing to discuss. If you truly wish to annihilate us... well."
"The Kree do not fear war. But if battle comes, your pet will almost certainly die first."
Pet.
Thor smiled.
Angela smiled.
Loki laughed, tears pricking his eyes. He pointed at the officer, voice trembling with mirth.
"You." He managed, "Are a genius."
A chill ran through the Kree ranks.
Garfield's eyes flicked toward Loki. A sharp look.
Focus, timing.
Loki caught it. Subtle… Not free.
Garfield's whiskers twitched.
Candy.
Loki's eyebrow rose a fraction. Deal.
The exchange took less than a second.
Loki composed his features into a mask of the bereaved pet owner, devastated yet diplomatic.
"Very well," he sighed, voice heavy with false grief. "I would not see my beloved companion perish so tragically."
"Perhaps we can discuss... what price you might pay to soothe Asgard's wounded pride."
The Kree officer scratched his head, visibly thrown. This wasn't how the script was supposed to go.
In his mind, the equation was overwhelming fleet, captured pet, exhausted Asgardians ready to talk terms.
Instead, he got a speech about dignity and extinction.
Before he could formulate a response, a small ship streaked through the sky. Its hatch hissed open, and Ronan emerged, armor cracked and seething.
He'd been hammered within an inch of his life by Thor. Only Kree advanced medicine had pulled him back from the brink.
But lying in that medical bay, wired to machines while the battle raged outside, Ronan had felt something worse than pain, humiliation.
He'd never been beaten like that. Not since childhood.
Some golden-haired brute had swung a hammer and treated him like a stray dog on the roadside.
Now, sensing the confrontation winding down, Ronan couldn't bear the thought of his shame going unavenged.
He'd ignored every doctor's warning, ripped out the tubes, sealed himself in cracked armor, and commandeered a ship.
In fairness, Ronan wasn't weak.
The movies had done him dirty, danced to death for comedic effect, sacrificed on the altar of Guardians of the Galaxy's tone.
True power scaling? Ronan with the Power Stone was a planet-killer. Thor's hammer was impressive, but context mattered.
But movies need endings.
Ronan needed to die, just as Tony would one day need to snap, budgets and contracts and narrative convenience aligning like cosmic fate.
Strange had seen the math, two hundred million dollars in your pocket, Tony, now go make it count.
Ronan didn't know any of this.
He snatched Garfield from the spider-creature without a word.
Garfield the innocent orange cat with no combat power visible, absolutely broke and went limp immediately.
"Meow. Meow. Meow."
Weak. Helpless. Pathetic.
Eyes fixed on Loki.
Loki's face contorted with the effort of not laughing. He managed to arrange his features into something approximating concern.
"You, blue one!" he shouted, pointing. "Be gentle with my cat, or I'll make you regret it. Do you hear me?"
Ronan dangled Garfield carelessly. "Hmph. I, Ronan, don't waste time on weaklings like you."
His gaze locked onto Thor. "You. Hammer-swinger. You attacked me from behind."
"I challenge you, one on one. Settle this properly."
Around him, the Kree who'd witnessed Thor's lightning tear through their fleet exchanged panicked glances.
"Ronan, don't~"
"Peace is profitable~"
"Just let it go, man~"
Ronan hadn't been there. He'd been unconscious through the entire demonstration of divine firepower.
All he knew was the insult, the ache in his bones, and the need to reclaim his pride.
"Silence!" He snarled.
Then, to Thor: "Golden One. Accept or refuse. But know this, if you refuse, I'll make this cat of yours very sorry."
He lifted Garfield higher, one armored finger hovering near a particularly sensitive spot.
Poke.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Thor, Loki, and Angela felt… a pulse of divine energy radiating from Garfield's small form.
Loki exhaled slowly, almost reverently.
"I've seen many die in my time," he murmured, more to himself than anyone.
"But you, blue one... you might be the bravest fool of them all."