Merry Grootmas [Guardians of the Galaxy]

Part 4

As the Milano neared Santa's workshop, Drax whistled. The massive compound was composed of dozens of warehouses, surrounded by barbed wire fences and observation tours—not to mention an opulent, gleaming golden palace in the middle of it all with a hot tub on the roof. "This is all yours?" Drax asked. "You are a very rich man indeed."

Santa said nothing. Instead, his eyes were transfixed on the smoke rising from the buildings. "No," he whispered. "The elves..."

Peter brought the ship in low over the compound, so they could survey the situation before landing. They'd found trouble, all right: Pint-sized bodies lay scattered across the grounds. Fires raged. It was a warzone.

"I'm sorry," Rocket said, trying to comfort the old man. "We'll get this guy."

Santa wiped his tears away with his red hat.

"There," Gamora said, pointing at the mansion. A small spacecraft was crashed on the front steps, and the winged creature was climbing out of the cockpit. 

"Aw, crap," Rocket said. "Maybe we should just keep flying."

"Why?" Peter asked. "You recognize the guy?"

Rocket nodded. When he spoke, there was fear in his voice. "His name is Annihilus. He's from the Negative Zone...and he's bad news."

"If he's bad news, then he probably has a big bounty on his head," Peter said, a smirk growing on his face. He had a glint in his eye, one he hadn't had for months. It made him look more boyish, in a way that maybe made Gamora feel a little funny. "Plus," he added, "bad news is my middle name."

Drax smiled as well. "I like the way you think, Peter Bad News Quinn."

"I AM GROOT!"

Santa stared at baby Groot on the dashboard. "What did that stick say?"

Rocket cleared his throat. "He said...GUARDIANS ASSEMBLE!"