If you want to help me financially, you can do it on
https://ko-fi.com/neverluckysmile
This time, using Mind Control felt strangely different for Arthur.
The last subject he used it on, an unstable test subject from the failed Super Soldier serum program, had been mentally shattered. His cognitive faculties were 99% gone, leaving behind only primal reflexes, like involuntary blinking.
So while the Mind Control spell technically worked on him, it was crude and incomplete. It didn't require finesse. Arthur had to fully possess the body himself, inserting a sliver of his own consciousness to pilot the man like a drone.
But Ronan was a different story.
His mind was intact, completely whole, but fractured internally.
All his resistance was locked away in the deepest part of his psyche. And if that buried resistance ever took control, the spell would unravel instantly.
That's why Mind Control required the target's willingness.
It wasn't about brute force, it was about spiritual dominance. If the subject wasn't compliant, no amount of power could establish control.
Arthur had only succeeded by deceiving Ronan, leading him into a fabricated vision that temporarily disarmed his suspicion. But even so, Ronan's mind had split, one side fooled, the other doubting.
Fortunately, the suspicious half hadn't surfaced in time. By the time it stirred, the process had already completed. The net had closed, and it was too late to reverse it.
Now, Arthur didn't need to micromanage Ronan's every move. He could simply give a mental order, and Ronan would act accordingly.
Perfect.
Arthur eyed Ronan like an engineer admiring a prototype. Then he tilted his head slightly and smirked. "Shame you're not better-looking."
Just as he said that, a holographic transmission lit up across the far wall.
Arthur's instincts kicked in, and he flickered into motion, using Ronan as cover.
"Lord Ronan!"
The face of a Kree officer appeared on the projection. "The fleet has formed up. Please give the order."
Ronan stood still. Arthur issued a silent mental command.
"Hold position," Ronan said in a deep, composed voice. "Await further instructions."
"Yes, sir."
The transmission cut out.
Arthur stepped out from behind Ronan and glanced at him. Ronan's expression remained fixed, gaze unblinking. On the surface, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except for the slight rigidity in his facial muscles.
Arthur considered this and said, "Try to act more natural."
"Yes," Ronan replied.
The tension in his posture faded immediately, and he turned to look at Arthur, standing by calmly.
"Now," Arthur continued, "have your people let my team in."
Ronan gave the order without hesitation. At the same time, Arthur opened a channel to contact Steve and the others.
But just after ending the transmission, a strange expression flickered across his face.
Ronan, still composed, spoke evenly: "My men are already dead."
"…That's a little excessive," Arthur muttered with a sigh.
...
While Arthur had been away, Ronan's remaining forces hadn't stood a chance.
The few crew members left on the flagship were quickly and decisively eliminated, no match at all for the Avengers.
Most of Ronan's forces were still outside, locked in a brutal firefight with the Nova Corps.
And to their credit, the Nova Corps hadn't faltered. Their defenses held strong, impressive, considering the relentless assault.
Even without direct commands from Arthur, the remaining ambushes weren't much of an issue. Gamora was leading the charge.
She knew the warship's layout inside and out, so navigating the corridors had been smooth until they reached the door.
The one leading to Ronan's inner sanctum.
No matter what they tried, the door wouldn't budge. Gamora, Nebula, Rocket, they threw everything short of a miniature nuke at it. Nothing worked.
While the team was regrouping, Steve's comm lit up. It was Arthur.
After a brief exchange, Steve's expression shifted. "Everyone, back up a little."
"You planning to blow the door?" Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No kind of brute force will break that seal," Gamora said flatly. She looked at the door like it was carved from legend, indestructible.
"No explosives," Steve said calmly. "The Instructor's going to open it himself."
Even as he spoke, the team had instinctively taken a few steps back.
With a faint hiss, the massive doors slid open.
Arthur stood in the doorway, completely unharmed, waving casually. "Hey there, team."
And standing just behind him… was Ronan.
Expression blank. Posture controlled. He also raised a hand and waved. "Greetings."
The entire squad stared, stunned into silence.
Arthur and Ronan. Standing side by side.
Had they... teamed up?
Before anyone could fully process the implications, a primal roar echoed through the hall.
"RONAN!!!"
A hulking figure covered in crimson war tattoos barreled forward, dual daggers gleaming. Drax, the Destroyer, was out for blood and aiming straight for Ronan's chest.
"Wait, wait, wait!"
Arthur and the rest shouted in unison. Even someone with a brain half-fried by cosmic radiation could tell something was... off about this situation. Charging in headfirst without context was a terrible idea.
But there was no stopping him. This was Drax.
"Hold it!" Arthur snapped, and the Hulk moved instantly. With a thunderous stomp, he reached out and grabbed Drax by the neck, pulling him back with practiced ease.
"Big guy's talkin'," Hulk said simply. "Wait till he's done, then smash."
But Drax wasn't listening. He thrashed wildly in Hulk's grip, swinging his blades like a berserk toddler. "LET ME GO! VENGEANCE!"
Star-Lord winced. "If we don't explain something fast, he's going to have a meltdown."
Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Okay, remember that technique slash magic thingy I mentioned?"
Peter blinked. Then his jaw dropped. "Wait, you actually controlled Ronan?!"
"To demonstrate," Arthur said, turning to Ronan, "Slap yourself."
Without hesitation, Ronan complied. The slaps landed hard, sharp, deliberate smacks that drew blood at the corners of his mouth.
"Alright, that's enough," Arthur said quickly, waving his hand. "We still need his face. Can't send Thanos a broken toy."
Peter was starting to catch on. But the others, especially Gamora, looked like they'd just witnessed a paradox in real time.
Thor folded his arms thoughtfully. "So… you bound him with magic? How long does the spell last?"
Arthur shrugged. "Until death, give or take."
He glanced around, a grin forming. "Which brings me to my next idea: let's send Thanos a little present. Thoughts?"
"LET. ME. GO!! I WANT TO AVENGE MY FAMILY!!!"
The room fell silent, except for Drax, still howling like a man possessed.
No one responded. Hulk kept holding him effortlessly, glancing around and muttering, "Hulk wants a gift too…"
Then he turned his gaze toward Gamora.
Sensing the incoming chaos, Star-Lord yanked Gamora into his arms. "Hey, don't even think about it."
WHAM.
Gamora punched him straight in the chest.