Chapter Text
Adam Warlock, the fated perfection who yet didn't know how most of things worked.
Little did he know he was bounded to something he's yet to comprehend. A mystical power and another soul he'd to encounter.
---
Adam sat in the corner of the ship, watching as the familiar chaos of his new family unfolded around him. It already had been a year since he had emerged from his cocoon, bound to a power far greater than anything he could comprehend. The Guardians had taken him in, even if they weren’t entirely sure what to make of him at first. Over the months, though, Adam had grown accustomed to their bickering, their laughter, and their unpredictable camaraderie.
He’d even learned to love it.
Rocket was tinkering with the ship’s engine again—probably breaking something in the process—and Peter was loudly complaining about it as usual. Gamora was doing her usual thing, polishing her knives with a practiced grace, and Drax… well, Drax was Drax, staring at the others with a blank expression, occasionally muttering something profound—or unintentionally hilarious.
“Can you please stop breaking everything?” Peter groaned from the cockpit. “We’re supposed to be going to Knowhere, not… wherever you’re sending us with your ‘improvements’!”
Rocket shot back from below, his voice laced with annoyance. “Hey, you don’t fix a ship by playing air guitar, Shit-Lord!”
Adam couldn’t help but chuckle softly at their antics, leaning back in his seat, his golden skin still glistening faintly under the dim lights. He had learned to appreciate the unpredictability of life with the Guardians, so contradictory to where came from. There was something freeing about being around people who didn’t expect him to be perfect, who accepted his flaws and let him grow into who he was meant to be.
“What’s the mission this time?” Adam asked, his voice deep and thoughtful as he looked up from his seat, his golden eyes fixed on Peter, who had now stopped arguing with Rocket and was navigating through the stars.
"We’ve got a job," Peter answered with a grin, his hands expertly guiding the ship through the cosmos. “A few jackasses stole something from this one place, and we’re gonna get it back. Then we’re gonna make a profit. You in?”
Adam raised an eyebrow, still not entirely comfortable with the idea of “making a profit” in the way the Guardians did, but he was growing more and more accustomed to their odd moral compass. He nodded slowly. “What did they steal?”
“Some weird cube,” Rocket said, his voice dripping with non-excitement from below the cockpit. “Big, shiny cube, but it’s worth a fortune.”
“Fortune?” Adam repeated, trying to make sense of the word. “What is it exactly? And why is it so valuable?”
“Because it’s dangerous,” Gamora spoke up from behind, glancing at Adam with a sharp look. “Powerful. And in the wrong hands, it could cause a lot of damage. We’re taking it back, and maybe making a little something on the side.”
Drax looked over from his seat with a serious face. “If it is dangerous, then we will destroy it.”
“Yeah, no,” Peter interjected, shaking his head. “We’re not destroying it. We’re taking it back and getting rich. There’s a market for this kind of thing.”
Adam frowned, feeling a strange tug at the back of his mind. Something about the way they talked about the object made him uneasy. His soul—seemed to resonate with an ancient understanding he didn’t fully grasp yet. It was as though he knew the magnitude of what they going against, as if they were old enemies, destined to cross paths again.
But he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was more to this than they realized. If so dangerous the object, it couldn't just be a cube, there has to be more to it.
“We’ll be there soon,” Peter continued, pulling Adam from his thoughts. “And if these Ravagers want to fight us for it, then so be it. We’re not backing down.”
Adam looked out toward the vastness of space, the stars stretching infinitely before him. A deep part of him—something older, something buried—understood the true cost of what they were after. He didn’t know how he knew it, but the soul that had been bound to him by the Stone whispered, a cold and distant voice: There are fates worse than death.
As Knowhere drew closer in the distance, Adam’s gaze hardened. Whatever this mission was, it was about to change everything—for him, for the Guardians, and for the universe itself. It was more than just an artifact. It was a piece of something far larger...
And something inside him knew it.
---
Arrived their headquarters, they all studied the entire plan. It seemed like the cube was going to be sold to The Collector by an anonymous person in a nearby restaurant, so the plan was stealing it before this happened.
Gamora had requested this be a three man mission. Two entertainers and the runner.
Gamora and Quill would act as a couple in the restaurant to spy and identify the anonymous person, Adam would receive orders to attack, rob and run.
Sounds easy, what could possibly go wrong?