The Hollow Anvil — Fringe of the Andromeda ExpanseOnce a deep-space mining rig, now the most lawless bar this side of the void.
The Hollow Anvil hung in the darkness of space like a metal scar, orbiting a shattered moon that hadn't seen life in centuries. Jagged pieces of ore floated like teeth around its rusted hull, and the station's patched-up hull creaked with the groan of ancient hydraulics and faded war wounds. Inside, it was another world, dim lighting, exposed pipes hissing steam, walls lined with makeshift bounty boards and neon graffiti in a dozen alien languages.
At the bar, a rowdy crowd of mercs and scrappers were halfway through their third round, laughter echoing through the steel chamber. At the center of the noise sat Kakarot, a spiky-haired man in a battle-worn jacket, his body lean but rippling with potential energy. He looked out of place, not because of his youth, but because of his strange mannerisms and appetite.
The rest of the bar moved with the weariness of survival. Kakarot moved like someone who'd never been taught the meaning of restraint.
"AHAHA! Kakarot!" roared a burly spacer with tusks and a mech-arm the size of a crate. "You fried that bounty hunter like a steak on a plasma grill. What the hell did you use, man? I didn't even see a weapon on you!"
Kakarot scratched his head sheepishly, his spiky hair barely shifting.
"Trade secret," he said with a grin that danced on the edge of innocence and danger. He lifted the frothy drink in front of him and knocked it back in one fluid gulp before slamming the empty mug onto the bar with a satisfying thunk. "Maybe next time keep your eyes open, yeah?"
The group burst into laughter again, but their merriment was cut short by the sharp hiss of the entrance doors sliding open.
The entire atmosphere shifted.
A crew of Ravagers entered, hard-faced, cybernetically-enhanced brutes in red-and-black armor, their leader stomping ahead with heavy boots that rang out across the deck plating. He was tall, his muscular frame sheathed in a combat cloak. The most striking thing about him was the metallic mohawk that ran from brow to nape, gleaming beneath the flickering bar lights like a razor's edge.
The Ravager leader didn't pause. Didn't scan the room. He stomped straight to a private chamber at the rear, slamming the blast door behind him. A moment passed. Then came the thunder.
"FIND HIM!" his voice bellowed through the walls like a lion's roar. "I WANT THAT BOY IN CHAINS! DEAD OR ALIVE! HE STOLE FROM ME, AND HE'S GONNA DIE SCREAMING!"
The bar's murmurs fell to whispers. Chairs scraped as patrons sat straighter, ears twitching. Kakarot's head tilted slightly, his interest piqued.
Then the doors slammed open again.
The mohawked Ravager emerged, fury still burning hot in his eyes. He held a battered tablet aloft, stormed toward the bounty board like a man possessed, and slapped the screen onto the wall with a magnetic clack. The image flickered, then stabilized into a wanted poster:
"WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE — PETER JASON QUILL"REWARD: 100,000,000,000 CREDITS
The tablet projected a holo-image of the man: leather jacket, unshaven face, a cocky grin stretched wide as though he'd been caught mid-joke. Kakarot squinted, unfamiliar with the face. The name didn't ring a bell either.
But the number?
That did.
The entire bar froze in stunned silence, a silence so thick it strangled the air itself. Then—
"All units, deploy!""Shotgun the next transport!""I've gotta find him first!"
Chaos exploded.
Boots thundered toward the exit as bounty hunters, smugglers, and mercenaries scrambled to be the first into the stars. Screams echoed down the corridors. Someone fired a blaster into the ceiling for no good reason. In seconds, the Hollow Anvil was almost empty.
Kakarot remained seated, one boot resting on the leg of a nearby stool. He leaned back, arms crossed behind his head, and stared at the bounty tablet.
"Huh," he said aloud, more to himself than anyone else. "Pete… Quill, was it?"
His dark eyes narrowed. Not out of malice, but curiosity. The kind that started wildfires.
"Never heard of him," he murmured, lips curling into a grin. "But anyone worth that much… either did something really stupid—" He stood slowly, stretching his limbs with a few satisfying cracks, "—or something really fun."
He turned, giving a casual nod to the nervous bartender drone. "Put my tab on the Ravagers. They won't mind."
The drone buzzed in confusion, but Kakarot was already gone, walking with a lightness that didn't match the tension in the air. He paused one last time at the bounty board, staring at Peter's frozen image.
"Guess I'm a bounty hunter today," he muttered.
He threw on his orange jacket from the coat rack and throws it on, "HSSST!" opening the door, he headed out into the station and walked toward his personal spaceship he lovingly named the Nimbus.
Then, in a blur of motion and light, Kakarot and the Nimbus vanished, shooting off into the void like a comet with a trail of chaos behind him as his ship overtook others leaving them staring in awe.
In the cockpit of the ship Kakarot pressed a series of buttons and put in some coordinates to one of Peter's most likely hangs out at, a place called Nowhere!
The skies above Asgard shimmered with the soft glow of twilight as three figures descended from the heavens, wrapped in golden light. The air hummed with quiet reverence, and the sound of hammering tools and chanted spells faded as eyes turned skyward.
William descended first, his radiant hair a streaming banner of molten gold, his arms wrapped protectively around the two women at his side. Anissa and Sif clung to him, their expressions serene with contentment, their bodies still humming with the residual energy of their celestial travel. Their fingers brushed against the golden strands of his mane, basking in its warmth.
Below them, Asgard had risen from the ashes. The once-ruined city now sparkled with renewed life. Shining halls and silver spires rose with divine elegance, glowing softly under the touch of enchantments woven by gods and craftsmen alike. Though the grand palace still stood as scaffolding and ethereal framework, its skeleton gleamed with promise.
"Truly the work of the gods…" William murmured, his voice low, reverent, awe-touched. His emerald eyes scanned the city, the beauty of the rebirth stirring something ancient and primal in his soul.
From the palace ruins, a figure in regal armor stepped forward, golden plates etched with Norse runes, a red cape flowing like fire in the breeze. Thor's blue eyes widened in surprise, then sparkled with delight as he recognized the man descending toward him.
"Brother William!" Thor called, his voice booming like a thunderclap. "It's been a week! I feared you'd vanished into the void!"
Without hesitation, the God of Thunder hurled Mjolnir skyward, lightning crackling in his wake as he launched into the sky to meet them.
CLAP!
Their hands met mid-air, a clasp of forearms so mighty it echoed through the clouds. Thunder rolled. Lightning danced in spirals across the firmament, as if even the heavens rejoiced in their reunion.
"Brother…" Thor narrowed his eyes playfully. "What happened to your hair? You look like a wild man! Hahahaha!"
William chuckled, his grin sharp and tired as Thor clapped a gauntlet on his shoulder. "Let's just say I've been… busy."
With a subtle whoosh, the golden energy that radiated off him dissipated. His hair fell back to its usual short, dual-toned black and white, and the burning gold in his irises faded into their natural, piercing green. A faint shimmer of displaced space lingered around him, a visible ripple of raw energy that hinted at recent turmoil.
"I'd call it a vacation," William muttered, jaw tightening. "But it wasn't."
Thor raised a brow, sensing the weight behind his brother's words. The air shifted, but William mastered himself quickly, the moment of tension vanishing like mist under the sun.
As they descended to the streets, Anissa and Sif walked at William's sides, their arms entwined with his. They were warriors, mothers, goddesses in their own right, but in this moment, they were simply women returning home with the man they loved.
The group moved through the half-rebuilt city, the citizens bowing respectfully as they passed. They approached a large temporary housing structure, ornate even in its impermanence. But it was what surrounded it that truly drew attention: a gathered crowd of women, children, minor gods, and curious onlookers pressed gently around the windows.
Inside, soft divine light spilled through the glass like moonlight and starlight intertwined.
Peering in, William caught his breath.
Two infants lay sleeping upon a cushioned bed wrapped in the silks of Vanaheim. One glowed a calming silver, the other a gentle gold, their breaths rhythmic, their tiny hands occasionally curling as if grasping for something in a dream. The room around them shimmered with balanced divinity, their auras harmonizing into a gentle pulse of pure, tranquil power.
Frigga sat near them, her expression serene and watchful, the Queen Mother in all but title, playing the role of protector with an unmatched grace. Her silver hair shimmered as she looked up and saw them, a knowing smile spreading across her lips.
"Make way!" Thor called, his voice commanding but warm. "The father comes!"
The crowd parted instantly, heads bowed, voices hushed. Whispers followed William's approach, reverent, awed, some even fearful. The divine twins had been the talk of Asgard for days, their presence a blessing… and a mystery.
William stepped into the room, his bootfalls quiet, controlled. Behind him, Anissa and Sif broke into a quiet run, their armor clinking softly as they reached the bed and fell to their knees.
Tears welled in Sif's fierce eyes. Anissa covered her mouth, then carefully scooped the golden child into her arms, holding him to her chest like he might dissolve into light. Sif took the silver one, brushing his fine, pale hair with trembling fingers.
They didn't speak, they couldn't. Words would shatter the moment.
William walked to them slowly, letting the feeling sink into his soul. He knelt beside them, his shadow washing over the children. They didn't stir, only continued to glow.
His eyes softened.
His hands reached out and gently touched the tiny chests of his children. He could feel their hearts, strong and steady. He could feel them, his blood, his legacy, the purest thing he had ever helped create.
And then, without a word, William closed his eyes and made a vow in the silence of his soul.
"Let the stars fall and gods rise against me, if any ever lay a finger upon them… I will erase their bloodline from existence."
As the twin suns of Asgard's horizon dipped beneath the shimmering skyline, William stood at the edge of the golden platform, the last of his women now gathered beside him. Peace, hard-earned and tender, blanketed the realm. Behind them, the ship, sleek and obsidian-black with pulsing emerald lines, rested like a predator waiting to strike at the stars.
Their footsteps echoed softly on the polished Asgardian steel as they approached the vessel. Thor, regal and towering in crimson and gold, stood waiting near the gangway with a grin that could outshine the Bifrost.
"You'd better bring back stories worthy of the mead halls, brother!" Thor bellowed, voice like distant thunder.
William chuckled as the two warriors clasped arms. "I'll bring you tales, Thor. Whether they're wise or wild, we'll let the mead decide."
Thor clapped him on the back with bone-rattling strength, then turned to wave them off, cape flaring behind him like a flag of war. Loki's absence lingered in the air like a question no one wanted to ask. But now wasn't the time.
With a pulse of thought, Phage activated.
The black-and-green nanotech suit flooded across William's body like a tide, locking into place over his frame, accentuating his chiseled form in a display that made every woman nearby instinctively pause. The soft hum of energy rippled through the ship as the captain took his throne, centered in the cockpit like a king among stars.
That's when he walked in.
Peter Parker stepped onto the bridge with an aura that immediately turned heads. His body language was different, less boyish, more composed. There was purpose in his stride. Confidence in his posture. Not arrogance, mastery.
William's gaze sharpened, lips curling into a grin. "Well, well. Someone's been grinding."
Peter scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin but couldn't hide the electric confidence in his smile. "That training room you set up? It's insane. I didn't just level up, I reinvented myself."
He raised a hand toward the far wall of the cockpit. "Check this out."
WHOOSH!
A glowing blue strand exploded from his wrist. It wasn't just webbing, it was something more. Infused with Ki, the energy-thread shimmered with barely restrained power. It struck the far wall and bloomed outward into a web of radiant energy, humming with divine frequency and crawling up the hull like a living constellation.
William stood, eyes wide, inspecting the glow.
"You wove Ki into your webs…"
Peter grinned. "Ki-enhanced tensile structure. Tougher than vibranium, fast as a thought. I call it Spirit Silk."
Behind them, Anissa leaned over and whispered to Sif, "Damn. Kid's not playing around."
Sif gave a low whistle. "He may actually survive this trip."
Peter shrugged, clearly enjoying the reactions. "I figured if I'm going to hang with cosmic powerhouses, I need to bring something new to the table."
William placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled with genuine pride. "You're more than ready."
Peter looked at him, really looked, and nodded. "Thanks, Will. For everything."
Around them, the rest of the crew gathered as the engines flared to life. Stars spun in the viewport, galaxies waiting like open books.
William eased back into the throne. "Everyone strapped in?"
"Always," Anissa purred, already lounging like a goddess of war.
"Let's see what kind of chaos the cosmos has left for us," William said with a grin, raising a hand.
The ship surged forward, vanishing into the void with a streak of emerald light behind it.