[center][h2]THOR AND STAR-LORD[/h2] [b]IN[/b] [h2]RUN THROUGH THE JUNGLE[/h2][/center] [hr] Thor and Heimdall trudged through the jungles of Warworld, keeping their ears peeled for any movement in the underbrush. Thor's friend had explained to him what the planet was. The leader, Mongul, had somehow devised a way to create jump points to maroon curious or desperate travelers on the planet. Once they were here, they became gladiators in Mongul's planet-wide game of kill or be killed. It was barbaric. Heimdall had said the gambling revenues were the largest in the galaxy, according to scuttlebutt. With them Mongul was able to stay off the radar of interplanetary authorities as well as beam broadcasts of the fights daily to illicit areas all over the galaxy. "How many others have survived?" Thor asked, breaking the plan of staying silent during their trek. If he was being honest, he'd rather have a fight than not. It would be good to have a straight fight for once, instead of constantly getting ambushed by his foes. "Not sure," Heimdall shook his head. "This place...it clouds my vision some how. Possibly whatever their using to trap ships. I catch glimpses. They're out there. And they're all being hunted. We need a new home, Odinson. Without that we'll be picked off one by one." He wasn't telling Thor anything he didn't already know. With Asgard gone, they were always going to be in trouble. Even if Thor and his little band of fighters was able to track down their enemy and finish them off, the Asgardians without a home would always be in danger. Someone out there will always try and make a name for themselves by exterminating them. "We need to get off this planet before we have any chance of finding a home, my friend," Thor smiled at Heimdall. Even in all of this tragedy, even with them stranded on this strange planet, Thor had to admit that it felt good to be on the battlefield with Heimdall again. For years, before Odin had appointed him the sentry of Asgard, Heimdall had been fighting by Thor's side. The Warriors Three may have been more...flamboyant, but Heimdall had been his most stalwart companion. "I assume you have a plan to that affect?" "Sure," he shrugged. "I don't know how long it's going to take. But I have a few ideas." Thor chuckled, "Like that time against the Dark Elves? When you had an idea?" "Excuse me," Heimdall defended himself, "launching Volstagg over the castle wall with a trebuchet worked, if you'll remember." "It ruined the element of surprise," Thor shook his head. "What is more surprising than a three hundred pound warrior falling out of the sky into your gatehouse!?" Heimdall chuckled. The two of them reached a clearing, and a buzzing sound filled Thor's ears. It was electric, like the sound of a mortal weapon powering up. He spun, looking for the source. As he did so, however,the vines below his feet snared his ankles. Before he knew what was happening, he was yanked upwards, flailing for anything to free him from his new predicament. "Got you, man!" a soft spoken voice came from the trees. "Sorry that you have to die, man. But, well, you know the rules. Kill or be killed and all that." The vines holding Thor turned him slowly until he faced a living, walking pile of rocks pointing a gun at his face. Beside the living rubble was a squat, pink grub in a robotic exoskeleton, as well as a walking tree, who Thor guessed was the being holding him currently. He cursed himself for being so careless and walking into a trap. "Put him down," Heimdall shook his head. "I...I told you all I would be coming back with someone else." "Ah, well, sure," the rocks shrugged. "But you didn't say who he was or what he looked like. For all we knew this specimen was here to kill us." The tree let Thor go, and he crashed to the mossy floor below. He stood and brushed himself off, responding, "You're a Krogan, right?" "Yea, man," he nodded and extended his hand. Thor took it, "I am Thor, the God of Thunder." "Oh yea? Cool. My name is Korg, God of Stubbed Toes and Broken Windows. Heh. Little rock joke for you there!" He motioned to the grub, "That there is my buddy Miek. He's an insect. Or a worm. I don't know what his biological classification is." The pink-purple creature chattered excitedly. "He says he is an insectoid, and I am a dumb pile of boulders," Korg's face scrunched. "Which...is not very nice. And this is-" "I am Groot," the tree grumbled. "Good for you," Thor nodded. "I am Groot," the tree responded gain. "Yes you said that," Thor looked at Heimdall. "Was he hit on the head or something?" "That's all he said," Heimdall shrugged. "Far as we can tell he actually is saying different things." "These are you warriors?" Thor asked skeptically. "They've got more fight in them than you'd expect," Heimdall assured him. "And they all have their reasons to hate Mongul and stay loyal. That's what's important." Thor looked into his friend's eyes intently. Heimdall was many things, but he was no fool. If he vouched for them, that was good enough for the God of Thunder. "Very well. What's the plan?" [center]**********[/center] Quill studied the Thanagarian intently as they made their way through the jungles. Probably too intently. And probably staring below the belt would get him a stiff punch in the face. That's why he was behind her, of course. But it was more than the fact that she was smoking hot. He had never seen a Thanagarian outside of their military before. Whatever her reason for being a bounty hunter, it wasn't a good one. He would have to tread lightly. "So why are you a bounty hunter?" he blurted out and shook his head. She turned around swiftly. He could see the the rage in her eyes, "Excuse me?" "It's just that," he winced, "all I've known of Thanagarians is that they serve in the military. Never seen one that didn't. That's all." She turned again and kept walking, "Discharged." "Discharged?" he seemed skeptical. "Dishonorable." The word hung in the air like a knife ready to be shoved through Quill's heart. "Another word about it and I'm not gonna wait to kill you." There wasn't another word. He followed and she led. To where he had no idea. Peter figured she didn't know either. They were both strangers on the planet, and from what they saw at sundown the night before they could walk into an ambush at any conceivable moment. Quill again cursed his luck, which was the worst in the galaxy, when the two of them were suddenly encased in an antigrav field. "I don't know how," the Hawk deadpanned, "but this is your fault." "That's fair," Quill conceded. They turned slowly, helpless in the grav field's net. Quill heard the rustling of leaves above them. Then to the left. Then to the right. This was it. There were probably a whole squad of Warworld gladiators about to rip them limb-from-limb. He was gonna die here on this godforsaken rock next to a beautiful woman who hated him. To be honest, it was pretty much exactly how he expected to go out. As the rustles ceased, a small, furry creature jumped out of the bushes. From its mouth came a voice not unlike a stereotypical New Yorker, "Well, well, well. Looks like I caught myself a prize! Who wants to die first." "Ha-ha-ha!" Quill burst out laughing. He couldn't help himself. "I'm gonna get killed by a talking raccoon. My life is hell." The raccoon pushed a button on his belt and a current of electricity flowed through the two prisoners. "Now, there's more coming if you humies don't shut up," the fur ball laughed. "I am not a human," Hawk seethed. "Pink, two legs, tall," he shrugged. "You're a humie to me." "And what are you?" she asked back. "Ain't nothing like me but me," the raccoon grumbled. He pulled two small pistols off his belt, "Now, again, who wants to die first?" "None of us have to die," Quill pleaded. "We're gonna steal a ship from this Mongul and get out of here. Come with us." "I ain't leaving here till I find my friend," the raccoon shrugged. "Way I see it, the quickest way to that is to kill everyone else in this friggin' jungle." "You gonna be able to do that, rat?" Hawk shot back. "You gonna be able to kill Draaga all by yourself?" "I caught you two morons," he bared his teeth. "So I dunno how you'd help." "More weapons are always better than less," Quill said simply. A low, annoyed growl rumbled through the raccoon's throat, "Fine. But if you try to kill me, I promise you I'll kill you first." "Yea," Quill nodded grimly, "there's a lot of that going around." [center]**********[/center] The golden palace of Mongul surrounded Draaga like a living, breathing embodiment of the Mongul's divinity. Draaga had always known the leader of Warworld was a god amongst mortals, but this was proof upon itself. He had always dreamed of being in this place. WHile the Mongul had given him the Hall of Champions to reside in when he was invited to the capital, he had never been allowed in the palace before. He knew the Mongul was going to present him with something special. The large, jade doors to the planet's leader's throne room. He stepped into the gilded hall, lined with monuments to the exploits of Mongul. At the end of the long approach, the musclebound leader of Warworld smiled broadly at the gladiator, "Draaga! My champion! I am honored to have you in my hall." "The honor is mine, exhaulted Mongul," the gladiator took a knee in front of him. "To what do I owe this meeting?" "Because there is something I need from you," Mongul motioned for Draaga to stand. "You are the only one that I can trust with this mission." In front of Draaga, a hologram appeared of two people on Warworld. Both were clearly warriors like he was, strong and sure of themselves. They had a noble air around them as well, and the blond one had something else. A sense of power Draaga had rarely seen. "Who are they?" he asked his leader. "Men with prices on their head larger than any in the galaxy," Mongul smiled greedily. "I have been promised riches beyond my wildest dreams if we kill them here for the galaxy to see. The one that wants them dead ensures it. And Draaga, if you are the one to do so, I offer you the greatest reward of all." "Master?" "Freedom from Warworld," Mongul's smile widened as he saw the desperate desire spring forth from Draaga. "And to kill such illustrious targets, I offer you a weapon fit for a king." Mongul pulled a sheet from a pedestal next to his thrown, revealing a battle ax that shined like ice against the harsh winter sun. Draaga picked it up and felt its perfect balancing. "Master, for Warworld they will die!"