The back alleys of Knowhere smelled of cheap liquor and rot.
Moro, a towering alien covered in thick, jagged scars, blocked the path.
He glared down at Ernst, leveling a heavy energy rifle.
"You've been flashing a lot of coin, boy," Moro growled.
"Hand over your bag and your credits. Cooperate, and I'll make your death merciful."
Ernst didn't flinch. He smiled, offering a calm, chilling expression.
"I actually carry very little currency," Ernst replied smoothly.
"But my bag holds items of unimaginable value. If you want them, you must display genuine skill."
Moro's scarred face twisted into an ugly sneer.
"You ignorant fool. Ask anyone in this gutter about Moro."
He tossed the rifle to a subordinate and drew a massive, humming battle-axe.
"Falling into my hands means you pray for a quick end. I will teach you the true meaning of pain."
Moro swung the axe in a tight arc, the heavy blade generating a gust of wind.
Ernst tilted his head, unimpressed.
"I don't believe you. Let's test that theory."
"You are asking for death!" Moro roared.
He lunged forward. The axe with a terrifying, mechanical whine, aimed squarely at Ernst's neck.
Ernst calculated the kinetic force instantly. Moro possessed the raw physical strength of a super-soldier.
It meant nothing.
As the deadly blade approached, Ernst smoothly pivoted.
He extended his right hand. His bare palm clamped shut around the vibrating axe handle mid-swing.
The kinetic energy was too little.
Ernst simply absorbed it.
Moro grunted in surprise. He tried to rip the axe back.
It didn't move an inch.
Despite his massive height and bulging muscles, the alien gang leader was completely outmatched by the seemingly frail human.
Sweat broke out on Moro's forehead. He planted his boots and pulled with all his might.
Nothing.
But Moro was a veteran of the slums. He had contingencies.
He slammed his thumb onto a hidden switch on the weapon's shaft.
A lethal, high-voltage electric current surged down the handle, directly into Ernst's grip.
Moro expected the human to spasm, to drop the weapon in paralyzing agony.
Instead, Ernst sighed contentedly.
He absorbed the electrical current, his mutant biology processing the energy like a warm cup of coffee.
Moro's eyes widened in absolute terror. He realized he had ambushed a monster.
He let go of the axe and stumbled backward.
Ernst didn't let him escape.
He snapped a brutal front kick directly into Moro's stomach.
The force Ernst had just absorbed from the axe swing was redirected into the blow.
"Ah!" Moro screamed.
The massive alien was launched through the air like a ragdoll. He tumbled down the grimy alleyway, rolling to a painful halt.
"Kill him!" Moro bellowed, spitting black blood onto the pavement.
"Tear him to pieces! All of you, attack!"
The remaining gang members snapped out of their shock.
Electromagnetic cannons whined to life. Vibro-knives were drawn. They charged blindly.
Ernst moved with blurring, lethal precision.
He sidestepped a blinding plasma bolt, absorbing the thermal splash against his forearm.
He snatched two throwing knives out of the air mid-flight.
With a flick of his wrists, he sent the blades hurling back.
The knives buried themselves deep into the skulls of two aliens.
They dropped dead instantly.
Ernst stepped into the fray.
He shattered the jaw of a bald thug, then snapped the neck of the next.
The fight lasted less than sixty seconds.
Ernst stood amidst the groaning, broken bodies of the syndicate.
He turned his cold gaze toward Moro, who was trying to crawl away into the shadows.
Nearby, the small boy who had acted as bait stood frozen, trembling violently.
"Stay back," Moro pleaded, his tough-guy persona completely shattered.
"Let me go. I swear I won't cross you again. I beg you."
Ernst glared at him, deeply disgusted by the cowardice.
"Stop talking. One more word and I'll end you right here."
Moro clamped his mouth shut, his eyes wide with panic.
"You have a choice," Ernst said quietly.
"Live, or die."
"I want to live," Moro rasped.
"Whatever you want, I'll do it."
"Empty your pockets. All your credits, all your valuables. Hand them over."
Ernst stepped closer.
"Try a single trick, and you all die."
Moro's face twitched. This was a bitter irony.
The apex predator of the alley was being mugged.
Knowing Ernst was ruthlessly serious, Moro and his two surviving, crippled men emptied their hidden compartments.
They piled their illicit credits and stolen gemstones onto the dirty floor.
Ernst estimated the haul at over three hundred thousand universal units. Piracy was a lucrative business.
He swept the loot into his dimensional backpack.
He turned his attention to the little boy.
The child fell to his knees, tears streaming down his dirt-streaked face.
"Please don't kill me! They forced me to do it!"
"It doesn't matter if you were forced," Ernst replied flatly.
"You promised to guide me to the Collector. The distraction is over. Fulfill your contract."
The boy blinked, utterly shocked by the lack of violence.
"You... you aren't angry with me?"
"Why would I be?" Ernst asked.
"You are just an ant trying to survive in a meat grinder. I do not waste anger on ants."
The boy nodded frantically.
"Yes. I am an ant. Please, follow me. I will show you the way."
Ernst stepped over Moro's bleeding form and followed the child back to the main promenade.
The onlookers in the neon-lit streets whispered in disbelief. No one spared an enemy in Knowhere.
The boy led Ernst through the chaotic marketplace to the towering, heavily fortified headquarters of the Tivan Group.
"We are here," the boy whispered, pointing to the massive blast doors.
Ernst nodded. He didn't blame the child for his deception.
Morality was a luxury the starving could not afford.
Ernst reached into his bag and pulled out two packs of high-calorie, compressed survival rations.
He handed them to the boy. It was enough to keep him fed for a month, but not valuable enough to get him murdered by other scavengers.
The boy clutched the food and vanished into the crowds.
Ernst turned and walked into the sterile, pristine lobby of the Tivan Group.
The company made its vast fortunes mining the brain tissue and spinal fluid of the dead Celestial.
Ernst had initially considered buying some of the brain marrow for his own alchemy.
But his scanners indicated the energy had long since dissipated. The god had been dead for too long.
He approached the polished reception desk.
"I am here to sell rare biological specimens," Ernst announced to the clerk.
He remembered from his past life that the Guardians of the Galaxy had walked right in.
But they were carrying an Infinity Stone. A bag of dead animals required a different approach.
A mid-level manager was summoned. He was a tall, pale alien wearing an impeccably tailored suit.
He looked at Ernst with undisguised, arrogant disdain.
"We only deal in the absolute rarest of antiquities, human," the manager sneered.
"Let us see this 'precious' cargo."
Ernst felt a flicker of annoyance.
He unslung his backpack.
He grabbed the bottom and upended it directly over the pristine, white marble floor.
The dimensional pocket emptied.
A cascade of dark magic and brutal biology spilled out.
The severed, venomous horn of an Erumpent clattered against the marble.
The preserved, feathered skull of a Hippogriff bounced across the floor.
The massive, severed heads of a three-headed Cerberus rolled to a stop at the manager's expensive shoes.
The lobby instantly smelled of formaldehyde, dried blood, and ancient witchcraft.
The manager's arrogant sneer vanished. His face drained of all color.
He recognized the impossible, uncatalogued genetic signatures radiating from the pile.
His demeanor completely flipped. He bowed deeply, his voice trembling with newfound respect.
"I... I will contact the Master immediately. Please, wait just a moment."
Ten minutes later, Ernst was escorted through a labyrinth of secure vaults by a pink-skinned attendant.
He stepped into a massive, chaotic chamber lined with illuminated glass cages.
Standing in the center of the room was Taneleer Tivan. The Collector.
He looked exactly as Ernst remembered. Shock-white hair, eccentric velvet clothing, and a painted lower lip.
He threw his arms wide in a bizarre, welcoming gesture.
"Dear guest! Welcome to my humble collection."
Tivan stepped closer, his eyes darting hungrily toward Ernst's bag.
"My staff tells me you possess items of biological rarity. May I examine them?"
"Of course," Ernst replied smoothly.
"A fair transaction requires mutual satisfaction. Inspect the goods."
Ernst opened the bag and carefully laid the magical specimens out on a long, metal examination table.
The items were not in perfect condition. Ernst had harvested them using dark, violent curses on Skull Island.
He had already extracted the useful organs and magical cores for his own experiments. These were just the leftover husks.
But to the rest of the universe, they were impossible anomalies.
The Collector was utterly mesmerized.
He produced a glowing magnifying loupe and spent two agonizingly slow hours cataloging every bone, feather, and scale.
Finally, Tivan stood up. He wiped his hands on a silk cloth.
"Fascinating," the Collector breathed.
"Utterly fascinating."
He looked at Ernst.
"The specimens are complete, though it is a profound tragedy that they are deceased. The necrotic state naturally depreciates their value."
Tivan smiled thinly. "Nevertheless, I will offer you a very satisfactory sum."
He pointed a long, bony finger at the bag slung over Ernst's shoulder.
"However, I am far more intrigued by your luggage."
"To hold such mass in such a small volume without heavy quantum stabilizers... it is exquisite."
The Collector leaned in. "I wish to purchase the backpack. Name your price. I hope you will not refuse."
Ernst considered the offer for exactly one second.
He reached deep into the dimensional pocket of the bag.
He retrieved a sleek, black leather briefcase. It was inscribed with the Undetectable Extension Charm.
He opened the briefcase, gently placed all the magical specimens inside, and snapped it shut.
Ernst pushed the briefcase across the metal table toward the ancient being.
"The backpack is not for sale," Ernst said politely.
"But please, consider this enchanted box a gift."