Yondu returned from Knowhere in high spirits after making a fortune—until he learned that Peter Quill had bolted the moment their ship docked at a star to refuel. His temper exploded. He swore he'd hunt the little bastard down and execute him on the spot.
In front of his crew, Yondu was thunder incarnate. Behind closed doors, though, it was a different story.
"Boss, you're not really planning to bring Peter back, are you?"
Kraglin Obfonteri, Yondu's most trusted lieutenant, was long used to his boss's mood swings.
"Bring him back for what—so he can piss me off again?" Yondu scoffed. "If he wants to play around out there, let him. Whether he lives or dies is none of my business."
The words sounded careless, but Kraglin only laughed. That was Yondu—he could care to death and still pretend he didn't give a damn.
Kraglin placed a metal cash case on the table. "Add this to what we already have, and we can fully upgrade the weapons system. Oh—by the way, boss… Peter ran off without money or a ship. How exactly is he supposed to 'venture into the galaxy'?"
That sentence hit Yondu like a lightning bolt.
He knew Peter too well. That kid was sharp as hell—running off empty-handed wasn't his style.
Yondu shot up from his chair and stormed to his private safe, protected by over a dozen security codes. He flung it open.
Half empty.
The gaping space inside the safe felt like a mouth laughing straight at him—mocking the old thief who'd been robbed by a younger one.
Inside lay a note, written in Peter's unmistakable scrawl. It said the money was a loan. He'd pay it back once he made it big. And if he didn't… well, that was just tough luck.
That, Yondu thought bitterly, is Peter Quill all right.
"Put out a bounty—forty thousand units!" Yondu roared. "Catch that little bastard! Stealing from me now—his guts are getting bigger by the day!"
After Kraglin left to post the bounty, Yondu grabbed a small crystal swan from the table, ready to smash it in a fit of rage. His hand froze midair.
…Too expensive.
With a growl, he set it back down.
-----
Meanwhile, Peter—who had successfully slipped off the massive ship—used the stolen money to buy himself a medium-sized spacecraft, one capable of both combat and long-term habitation.
"I finally have my own ship!" he shouted, standing proudly atop it at the bustling Mandarin Star spaceport. "One day—one day—the name Star-Lord will echo across the entire galaxy!"
A few passersby glanced his way, then promptly ignored him.
Kids like that were everywhere—fresh pilots who thought owning a ship meant ruling the universe. Most of them ended up as cosmic debris.
-----
On Knowhere, Taneleer Tivan's men discovered that same missing-person notice on the interstellar network. The image showed the very child they'd searched the entire station for—without success.
"Master Tivan, should we post our own bounty? With enough credits, we'll definitely find her."
"No," Tivan replied calmly. "That would draw too much attention. People will do anything for money, and I don't want such a beautiful soul to be stained by greed. I have a feeling… we'll meet again. Soon."
After dismissing his subordinates, Tivan summoned a hologram of the solar system. Among its orbits, the blue glow of Earth stood out vividly.
He opened his palm, and a miniature Earth descended into it.
"What a… fascinating place."
-----
In the great hall of Asgard, Heimdall reported Clara's ordeal to Odin, the All-Father.
"You're saying that child crossed countless spatial wormholes—traversing nearly the entire universe?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Everywhere my sight can reach, she has been. And some places even beyond that."
"Where is she now?"
"I had the attendants escort her to the guest chambers. In her current condition, she is unfit to appear before you."
"Take me to her."
Odin could not ignore this. The Tesseract, capable of space travel, was locked away in Asgard's vault. There was no reason an ordinary child should survive so many wormhole jumps.
When they arrived, the attendants reported that Clara had already fallen asleep.
As Odin and Heimdall entered, Clara was trapped in a nightmare—being chased by swarms of hairy spiders, while a man stood nearby laughing cruelly, saying she deserved it.
In Asgard's dungeon, Loki was in exceptionally high spirits. He had just seen that wretched little girl—the one who'd cracked him twice atop Stark Tower—being chased by spiders in a vision.
He applauded with delight.
She vanished soon after, leaving the spiders crawling everywhere, but from the look of it, she'd had a miserable time.
And what could be more satisfying than knowing your enemy is suffering?
Watching the spatial ripples continuously forming around Clara's bed, Odin finally understood.
It wasn't the wormholes pulling her through space.
It was Clara herself—unconsciously generating them and falling into them.
Odin extended his hand, divine white energy flowing toward Clara, attempting to stabilize her. Instantly, an orange halo burst forth from within her, blocking Odin's power.
As the orange light appeared, Clara's emotions calmed, and the spatial distortions faded away.
Odin's expression turned solemn.
Now he understood who this girl truly was.
And now… he had to make a decision.
"Father! Father!"
Thor burst into the chamber, fresh from training. "The guards said you were in the guest wing—did we have visitors?"
Heimdall was present. His father stood by a sleeping girl, gazing at her with unmistakable gentleness.
Thor's eyes widened.
"…Father," he asked slowly, "when did you give birth to a little sister?"
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