If the gears weren't broken, then it could only mean that Ego was just that tough.
The Disassembler had warned him beforehand, yet with the process dragging on for several months now, Arthur could only sigh. In some ways, he had already anticipated this.
Even so, wasn't this a bit excessive? The time it was taking was almost comparable to the Disassembler's very first upgrade.
The spaceship soon crossed into Xandar's planetary security inspection zone. Every incoming ship had to be logged, scanned, and assessed for potential threats.
Any contraband found aboard would be confiscated. And if that contraband happened to violate Xandar's notoriously strict import laws, the guilty parties would face detainment, legal procedures, or even sentencing, depending on the severity.
Of course, Xandar wasn't unique in this regard. Every interstellar civilization had its own inspection protocols. With thousands of ships pouring in from across the galaxy, no planet could afford to let foreign vessels enter at will.
And it wasn't free, either.
There was always a toll.
Arthur briefly considered calling Nova Prime to sidestep the hassle, but escalating something so trivial to the highest authority felt unnecessary. In the end, they followed proper procedures, accepting the wait.
Naturally, that still left them with another inconvenience.
Their Earth-made ship had no clearance to dock at the Nova Corps headquarters; only registered vessels were permitted. Arthur's previous ship, as well as Star-Lord's, had been authorized for unrestricted access thanks to past dealings. This one? Not so much.
So they were left with no choice but to park at a civilian docking port. The process was tedious, but for the team, it was also oddly refreshing, something new in its own way.
As they disembarked, Tony raised an eyebrow and quipped, "Well, look at us. Model citizens of Xandar. It's… thrilling."
With nothing urgent demanding their attention, the group embraced their rare downtime.
Every other visit to Xandar had been a whirlwind, Nova Prime spotting them almost the second they landed, pulling them into endless meetings, formal events, or negotiations. But now, walking freely through the bustling streets felt liberating.
Arthur strolled along with a transparent datapad in hand, scrolling through local listings.
Restaurants. Scenic spots. Shops. Tourist attractions. Xandar had it all.
Banner stopped short, eyes wide. "Wait, are they seriously grilling meat with explosives? 'Tender cuts infused with the crisp crunch of shrapnel', you've got to be kidding me. How did I miss this madhouse the last time we were here?"
"Because last time, you dragged us straight to the library," Tony deadpanned, before glancing toward Arthur. "So, boss, where to now?"
Arthur smirked, tapping a few times on the datapad. "Somewhere worth the detour. And lucky us, looks like we can grab a ride there."
They hailed an air-taxi, A low-altitude flier, part of the seamless transport net spanning all of Xandar. On-demand, ever-reliable, and available at a moment's notice.
The only drawback of the air-taxi was how cramped the cabin space felt. The driver grumbled as he fiddled with his controls. "If spatial-folding tech wasn't restricted to the military, I swear I could fit the entire planet of Xandar inside this cab!"
Arthur couldn't help but silently admire the genius who had decided to restrict such technology to military use only.
Because otherwise… who knew which random cabbie on Xandar might decide to haul the entire planet off to some forgotten corner of the galaxy?
Then again, that might actually make Xandar safer. After all, if even Xandar itself couldn't find where it was, how could anyone else?
The group kept up idle chatter during the ride. At first, the atmosphere wasn't bad, they shared laughs, even a sense of camaraderie. But by the midway point, it devolved into everyone talking past each other.
In fact, by the end, the driver didn't even know what he was babbling about anymore. He simply refused to stop, just so none of his passengers could wedge another word in.
Their taxi finally descended, settling neatly onto the rooftop of a towering skyscraper. After paying the fare, and tossing in a generous tip, the driver left in high spirits, piloting away with palpable relief.
Rejoining the group, Arthur overheard Brock mutter darkly, "That guy just saved his own life. He wouldn't shut up, and in the end, he actually woke Venom up."
Arthur frowned. "From now on, Brock shouldn't be left alone. He needs someone with him at all times, someone who can keep Venom in check."
"I didn't even eat him!" Venom boomed indignantly from within.
Arthur ignored the protest, scanning their surroundings. "Elevator twenty-three, floor one-twenty-one. Everyone, follow me."
Honestly, if anyone else had seen the scene, they might've mistaken him for a teacher leading a group of schoolchildren on a field trip. All Arthur was missing was a yellow cap, a little triangular flag, and a red scarf tied neatly around his neck.
And really, who else but Arthur could make a squad of superheroes look like obedient elementary kids?
Finding Elevator 23 wasn't hard. Neither was getting to the 121st floor.
What was difficult was navigating it.
When the doors opened, they were greeted by a glowing sign in Xandarian script: Pan-Universe Culture & Technology Co., Ltd.
The sign was animated, cycling through three flashy colors to grab attention. Arthur squinted at it and thought it looked suspiciously cheap… the kind of tacky neon you'd expect above a back-alley motel. Especially with that little arrow pointing down the hallway, it definitely sold the vibe.
The group followed the arrow, weaving through the winding corridors of the 121st floor.
About ten minutes later, Arthur realized something dreadful.
They were lost.
A full lineup of Earth's elite heroes, men and women who had toppled supervillains, conquered alien battlefields, and fought world-ending threats, now stood helpless in a corporate maze.
Arthur sighed and summoned his trump card, the Eye of Horus. Guided by its mystical sight, they metaphorically traversed mountains, forded rivers, and waded through seas of cubicles until, finally, they stopped before an unassuming door.
Arthur read the plaque beside it aloud. "Pan-Universe Culture & Technology Co., Ltd.… Who the hell came up with that name?"
Everyone silently stared at him.
Arthur blinked. "…Me?"
Before anyone could respond, the door creaked open. A middle-aged man with a comically high hairline looked at them in utter bewilderment. His gaze darted across the mismatched group, then he asked in confusion:
"…Wait a minute. Did I just open a door that leads back to Earth?"
(End of Chapter)
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