UNKNOWN GUEST

#117 Thanos

Peter Quill scanned the landscape of Titan, his expression a mix of disbelief and distaste. "Damn. This land is a mess," he muttered, hands on his hips as he kicked a bit of orange dust into the air.

I shook my head, scoffing. "A mess? That's putting it mildly. This is a full-on disaster. Look at it—all those busted structures look like someone tried to blow it up with a nuke."

The surface of Titan was nothing short of desolate. Jagged structures that once towered above the landscape now lay cracked and broken, like ancient relics stripped of their former glory. It was quiet—too quiet. Even the sound of our boots crunching against the gravel felt loud. It was eerie, as if the entire planet was just waiting.

Uncle Tony called out, snapping us all back to the task at hand. "Alright, everyone, listen up. The purple-head is coming to us, so let's come up with a plan. Something that'll keep us from just dancing around him," he said, crossing his arms as he eyed each of us.

I nodded along, and we started gathering in a circle, everyone leaning in for what we knew would be our best shot at keeping Thanos from doing any more damage than he already had. But just as we were getting serious, Drax stood a little off to the side, arms crossed and... yawning.

Uncle Tony narrowed his eyes, glaring at him. "Are you being serious right now? We're making a plan here," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Peter Quill sighed and shot a look at Drax. "C'mon, guys, cooperate," he urged, nudging Drax to step closer and focus.

Finally, with everyone paying attention, we gathered in a tight circle, ready to hammer out a strategy that might give us even a sliver of a chance. But before we could start, Mantis's eyes went wide, and she pointed at Doctor Strange, who was floating a few feet above the ground, his hands weaving intricate patterns as he slipped into a deep trance.

"Does your friend often... have these kinds of strokes?" Mantis whispered, her voice full of innocent curiosity.

We all turned, watching with a mix of curiosity and concern as Strange hovered, eyes closed, his face intense with concentration. Sparks of golden light surrounded his hands as he moved them through the air, as though he were carefully rearranging pieces of an invisible puzzle.

"Uh, nope," I muttered, tilting my head to get a better look. "Pretty sure that's... not normal."

Uncle Tony stepped closer, squinting up at Strange. "Hey, doc, you alright up there?"

Just then, Strange blinked, his gaze clearing as he slowly lowered back to the ground. His expression was dark, like he'd seen a ghost—or something much, much worse.

Tony approached him, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and cautious optimism. "What'd you see?" he asked, his tone hopeful but edged with tension.

Strange exhaled slowly, taking a moment before answering. "I looked through the future," he said, his voice low, almost reverent. "Saw how this whole thing with Thanos could play out."

"How many outcomes did you see?" Tony asked, a spark of hope lighting his eyes.

"Millions," Strange replied, and a chill ran through the group. The way he said it—like he'd witnessed something unspeakably awful—left us all holding our breath.

Tony swallowed hard. "And... how many times did we win?"

Strange's gaze dropped, his expression unyielding, a grim set to his jaw. "Once."

The silence was deafening. Just once. Out of millions. I felt my stomach drop. How many times would we have to go through this fight? How many would fall before we found that one single victory?