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In the security room of the palace, Peter, adorned in his new, iconic mask, gathered with Groot, Cosmo, Howard the Duck, Carina, and Oola. The atmosphere was tense, much more tense than the last invasion they dealt with.
On the large screen before them, an unnerving sight could be seen: over five hundred Hutt warships moving ominously towards their small but spirited space station city.
Howard, leaning against a console, quipped dryly, "Well, I guess we're dead. It's been horrible knowing each and every one of you..."
Peter, standing confidently by the main console, rolled his eyes at Howard's attempt to lighten the mood but kept his eyes fixed on the screen. Most of the group shifted uncomfortably; the last skirmish with Jabba's meager twelve ships was still fresh in their minds, and now, they faced an armada.
Before Peter could initiate contact, the console beeped loudly—an incoming hail from the Hutt fleet. He pressed the answer button, and the screen shifted to display a grand throne room filled with Hutts of varying sizes and ages, their slimy skin glistening under the dim light.
In the center, an especially large, ancient-looking Hutt began to speak in a guttural tone. The interpreter's voice came through the speakers: "Star-Lord, you dare to take my nephew captive. You will surrender immediately, return Jabba, and relinquish Knowhere or be obliterated."
Peter listened, his face unreadable behind his mask. He glanced at his friends, noting their anxious stances. This was a repeat of last week's encounter with Jabba, and he felt a surge of defiance alongside a small bit of boredom.
With a deliberate slowness, Peter raised his middle finger to the screen and, with his other hand, he used his Mechu-Deru to take full control of Knowhere's defenses. "Look, we've danced this dance before with your nephew, and I'm not in the mood to drag it out again," he declared.
Instantly, the space around Knowhere erupted into chaos. Hundreds of huge plasma cannons unfolded from the station's structure, targeting the Hutt ships with ruthless precision. Explosions lit up the space like a deadly fireworks show, each blast a hammer of judgment against the invading fleet.
On the screen, chaos reigned in the Hutt throne room. The ancient Hutt leader barked orders in a panic as their ship rocked violently from the impacts. Their angry shouts filled the room, but Peter simply watched with a smirk.
"Save your breath. You fat, ugly slugs should've thought twice before coming here," Peter retorted with a dismissive snort.
He abruptly cut the transmission and turned to his team with a grin. "Well, that's that. Let's make sure none of them escapes. But first, Oola!"
"Yes?" She responded promptly.
"Could you grab us some drinks and snacks? I want to enjoy the show..." Peter smirked, gesturing towards the screen where another dozen Hutt warships were erupting in flames.
…
After getting their snacks, the group watched the Hutt fleet disintegrate live on the screen, an unspoken bond of victory and relief beginning to knit between them.
Peter leaned back against the control panel, his iconic mask sat on his lap revealing a mischievous grin. The fireworks display of exploding warships provided a spectacular, albeit dangerous, backdrop.
"Ohh, there goes half of their fleet!" he chuckled, enjoying this far more than he should.
Groot responded with his usual, "I am Groot," which everyone in the room now understood as an expression of agreement, or sometimes just a plain old affirmation of his presence.
Outside, many Hutt warships managed a desperate barrage of fire, their cannons blazing in retaliation towards Knowhere. But sadly, for them, the station's reflector shield shimmered to life, an iridescent barrier that repelled the onslaught effortlessly. The blasts bounced off, dissipating into the cold void of space without causing any harm.
"They think that's gonna work?" Howard asked, shaking his head as he sipped from a glass of wine Oola had brought him. The drink seemed to have an odd, neon glow—likely something strong enough to knock out a lesser creature.
Carina, standing behind Peter, watched the chaos unfold with a critical eye. "I guess I was worried for nothing. Even a thousand ships might not be able to withstand our defenses…"
Peter nodded. "Yeah, their efforts are pointless. Our shields can withstand much more than this and even our plasma cannons aren't firing at full speed."
As the battle raged on, the last remnants of the Hutt fleet began to scatter, their formations breaking as panic set in. Amidst the disarray, the Hutt flagship, a monstrous vessel adorned with garish symbols of opulence, made a slow, cumbersome attempt to flee.
Peter watched intently, a playful yet calculating look in his eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" He tapped a few commands into the console, deploying a swarm of drones into the fray. The small, agile machines darted through the debris and chaos with precision, converging on the fleeing flagship.
As the drones approached, they released a synchronized burst of electromagnetic pulses. The flagship's engines flickered and died, its lights dimming as it drifted helplessly in space. The drones, undeterred, latched onto the colossal ship, their engines whirring as they began to tow it toward Knowhere.
Peter spun around to face his team, his smile broad and victorious. "Let's go and show these Hutts some real hospitality. But before that, let's give them a show…" he chuckled as he put his mask back on.
"""?""" The group watched him, puzzled by his actions.
Tapping a few buttons on the console to initiate a hail to the flagship, Peter waited patiently. Seconds later, the screen flickered and shifted to display the interior of the Hutt ship, where the creatures were packed together, their faces twisted in fear and anger.
"Good evening, ladies and gents," Peter greeted cheerfully, his upbeat and excited. "Hope you're enjoying your time in Knowhere."
The ancient Hutt who had spoken before now appeared visibly shaken, his eyes wide with horror. "Chuba doompa, dopa-maskey kung!" he bellowed, his voice thick with fury, but the words were lost on Peter.
"Yeah, man. Whatever that means…" Peter shrugged as he tapped another button, bringing up a live feed of Jabba, who was displayed prominently in a glass box in the center of Knowhere's palace. The crime lord looked miserable and defeated, his massive body barely fitting inside the enclosure.
"You see, Jabba here was supposed to be my little insurance policy," Peter explained, his tone mockingly considerate. "I wasn't sure how tough or annoying you guys would be. But, well, you've seen how easy it was to handle your fleet."
The Hutts on the screen began shouting, their voices overlapping in a racket of anger and fear. Peter waited for them to quiet down before continuing, his finger hovering dramatically over his datapad.
"And now, I really don't need him anymore, do I?" he mused aloud, his finger tapping the button without breaking eye contact with the camera.
The screen split to show Jabba's face just as his head exploded in a gruesome display, splattering his glass cage with blood. Silence abruptly filling the room as the image cut out, leaving only Peter's masked face on the screen.
The shock was palpable even through the digital connection, with screams and curses erupting from the Hutt ship. Relatives of Jabba were the loudest, their threats and insults aimed directly at Peter, who simply listened with a bored expression.
"Ah, music to my ears," Peter muttered, hardly phased by the vitriol. "But really, you guys should save your breath. You'll need it."
With a flick of his wrist, he waved cheerfully at the screen. "I'll see you all soon. Real soon." With that, he ended the transmission, cutting off the stream of Hutt curses.
He turned back to his crew, who were watching him with a mix of horror and awe. "Well, that's that," he said with a shrug, his grin never fading. "Let's go welcome our guests, shall we?"
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After the explosive death of Jabba the Hutt, the silence of space enveloped Knowhere. Amidst the drifting debris of shattered warships, the Hutt flagship, now a colossal dilapidated husk, was being towed forcefully toward the station.
"Alright, team, this is where we finish things off," Peter declared, clipping his mask back on. "Groot, Cosmo, Howard—gear up. We're going in hot, saving the innocents, and wiping out any soldiers or slugs we come across."
Groot nodded, his wooden form creaking slightly as he prepared his limbs for combat. Cosmo, always eager, telepathically projected her readiness, while Howard, albeit less enthusiastically, loaded his Tommy gun with a smirk on his beak.
Naturally, Peter could have obliterated their ship instead of docking it, but he chose not to for three reasons. First, he suspected there were many slaves aboard their flagship, much like Jabba's. Second, he anticipated finding valuable loot onboard.
And lastly, he simply relished the thrill of combat. Watching a bunch of ships explode from a distance is fun, but nothing beats the adrenaline rush of being in the thick of the action, facing enemies head-on.
Soon enough, the docking bay activated as the flagship connected with a metallic clang.
"Do you want to do the honors, or should I?" Peter turned to Cosmo, his tone light yet filled with the thrill of the moment.
Cosmo wagged her tail excitedly, stepping forward. With a focused glare and a subtle motion of her head, she unleashed her power, ripping the doors of the ship open with a loud, wrenching noise. The metal groaned under the unseen force, bending and twisting until the entryway lay bare before them.
"Good dog," Peter said, patting her head.
"Hehe…" Cosmo laughed as her tail wagged back and forth.
As soon as the doors clattered to the ground, blaster bolts flew out towards the group. Peter stepped forward, absorbing the energy from the bolts into his body. His team rallied behind him, ready for the onslaught. With a casual swagger, he walked into the flagship, the embodiment of confidence.
Behind him, chaos ensued. Howard, with a grunt, opened fire, the sounds of his gun echoing through the metallic corridors. Each shot found its mark, putting bullets in half of the Hutt soldiers who dared to face them.
Meanwhile, Cosmo, her powers surging, lifted the remaining attackers and slammed them into the metal walls with sickening crunches, their bodies undoubtedly shattered.
Groot charged down the hallway, his wooden form hurtling toward the incoming soldiers. And like a child tossing around toys, Groot flung the soldiers aside, their bodies crumpling under his powerful blows.
Hall by hall, the team cleared the ship. They encountered pockets of resistance, but none could withstand their coordinated assault.
The deeper they ventured into the flagship, the more desperate the resistance became. Slaves and non-combat personnel, coerced into fighting, rushed at them with nothing but sheer desperation.
Of course, Peter and his team incapacitated them with non-lethal force, ensuring they were merely knocked out, not harmed.
Finally, they reached the imposing doors of the throne room, a trail of unconscious bodies marking their path. Peter turned to his comrades. "Continue clearing the ship. I'll handle the Hutts," he instructed with a firm nod.
As Groot, Howard, and Cosmo fanned out to secure the rest of the ship, Peter approached the throne room doors alone. His hand hovered over the surface, and with a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a burst of telekinesis.
*BOOM!*
The door exploded inwards, sending a huge chunk of metal flying across the room. It struck one of the unlucky Hutt leaders, bisecting him cleanly in half.
Stepping into the throne room, Peter surveyed the carnage with a raised eyebrow. "Huh? Did I do that?" he muttered to himself, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he gazed at the terrified faces of the remaining Hutts.
"Peetch bo coonay!" One of the Hutt's screamed.
Instantly, Hutt guards, adorned in makeshift armor, clumsily aimed their blasters, their hands trembling. Peter laughed softly, the sound chilling to many of them.
"Really, that's your best defense?" he taunted, stepping over the wreckage of the door. His voice echoed menacingly as he raised his hands, sending a wave of force across the room, knocking weapons from trembling hands and hurling guards against the walls with sickening thuds.
One by one, the Hutts' defenders fell, their bodies crumpling under the invisible assault. Peter walked among them, untouched and unchallenged, his power absolute. He reached out with the Force, lifting a Hutt leader into the air. The creature's eyes bulged with fear as it struggled helplessly, gasping for air.
"Do you feel it?" Peter's voice was low, almost a whisper as he closed his hand into a fist. The Hutt's cries ended abruptly with a grotesque crunch, his body discarded carelessly to the side as Peter moved on to his next target.
The throne room became a blur of terror and violence. Peter unleashed lightning with precise, deadly arcs, each strike finding its mark. The electrical energy crackled through the air, illuminating his face with a sinister glow as he systematically dismantled the Hutts' ranks. Each bolt left charred, twitching bodies in its wake, the smell of burnt flesh permeating the room.
Amid the carnage, Peter sensed a slight hesitation in the remaining guards. Utilizing a burst of force enhanced speed, he closed the distance in a heartbeat, his movements a blur. He appeared before a group of guards, his hands shooting out to grasp their faces. With a twist and a sharp pull, he ended their lives, their necks snapping audibly.
As the last of the guards fell, Peter turned his attention to the remaining Hutt leaders, who cowered behind their lavish, yet now meaningless, decorations. With a cruel smile, he advanced, his hands crackling with lightning. One by one, he eliminated them, their screams echoing off the opulent walls until they, too, fell silent.
Finally, as the last Hutt lay lifeless at his feet, Peter stood in the center of the throne room, his breathing steady in the stillness that followed the massacre. The room was a gruesome picture of destruction and death, a testament to his power.
Just then, the sound of footsteps alerted him to the return of his team. Groot, Howard, and Cosmo appeared at the doorway, their expressions a mix of awe and horror at the bloodbath that greeted them.
"We've cleared the ship," Howard announced, not as bothered as the others.
Peter turned to face them, his adrenaline slowly fading. "Good," he replied simply, his tone light despite the carnage around him. "Let's start looting, shall we?"
A/N: 2450 words :) ps- Peter is about about to meet/save Rocket in the newest chapters on patréon, if anyone is interested…
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