AN: Lacking Powerstones
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Gamora gripped her blade tighter, pressing it closer to the Collector's throat. Taneleer Tivan, his face a grotesque mask of defiance and pain, sneered through the agony.
"You think you frighten me, child?" he spat, blood trickling from his lips. "You are but a pawn. You, your father, even your precious Nebula—you're all inconsequential in the grand design."
Gamora's expression didn't flinch. She leaned closer, her voice cutting through the stale air like the blade she wielded. "Enough nonsense, Tivan. Tell me where the star charts are, and I'll make your death quick."
The Collector let out a rasping laugh, cruel and hollow. "Death? My dear Gamora, I've made deals with powers far beyond your understanding. If you kill me, you'll awaken forces that even your Titan fears."
Gamora's patience, already thin, snapped. She flipped her blade and slammed its hilt into Tivan's ribs, eliciting a pained groan. "Stop stalling. Thanos doesn't tolerate delays, and neither do I. The charts, Tivan. Where are they?"
The Collector coughed, his elaborate chair rattling as he struggled for breath. Despite the pain, a smug grin crept onto his face. "You'll get nothing from me. I've already placed them beyond your reach, guarded by a force far greater than your father. Odin..."
At the mention of the All-Father's name, Gamora froze momentarily. Her grip on the blade tightened, her mind racing. She knew of Odin's reputation—his cunning, his ruthlessness, and his unmatched power. But Gamora wasn't one to back down, not with the Mad Titan's expectations looming over her. Besides, according to her information network, Odin is long dead and a fight is going on over his throne.
"Odin's long gone," she said coldly, masking her unease. "Asgard is in disarray. Whatever deal you made with him died with him."
Tivan laughed loudly. "Hahahahahaha! Odin, dead? You truly know nothing. Do you think I would be in this situation if he's dead? I would have hunted down the stones myself if that was the case. No, he lives on. And you'll never find the charts while he still draws breath."
Gamora's eyes narrowed as she studied the Collector, weighing his words. His smug expression, despite the blade at his throat, set her on edge. Tivan wasn't a fool—if he was saying this, it was either a ploy or a dangerous truth. Her hand remained steady, the sharp edge of her blade drawing a thin line of blood against his neck.
"You're lying," she said flatly, though a hint of doubt flickered in her voice.
Tivan grinned, his gold-streaked teeth catching the dim light. "Oh, Gamora. You think you know how this universe works, but you're merely scratching the surface. Let me live, and I'll give you something far more valuable than those star charts."
Gamora pressed the blade closer, her voice a low growl. "Why would I spare you? Speak quickly before I end this."
The Collector winced but held her gaze. "Because if you kill me, you'll remain blind to the true scheme."
"Fine," She said, without changing her expression.
"Odin faked his death to bait Thanos into coming for them himself. Asgard isn't weakened... It's a fortress, waiting for your father to march right into his doom. A simple trap to lure in the prey blinded by madness," The Collector said in his rasped voice.
Her grip faltered slightly, the weight of his revelation settling over her like a heavy shroud. "Why would Odin risk that? The stones… he could have destroyed them or hidden them or used them to get rid of Thanos or anyone dangerous."
Tivan chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with mockery. "Destroy the stones? Hide them? Use them just to get rid of Thanos? Odin isn't that shortsighted. The All-Father never plays defense, child. He's a conqueror, always has been. He knows Thanos won't stop until he has all six stones. And you are here, aren't you? Looking for the charts. You'll inform its location to your daddy and daddy will march to Asgard with his massive army. So, he waits, with Hela, Thor, Loki, and the combined might of Asgard ready to strike when your father walks into their trap."
Gamora's mind raced, trying to piece together the implications. If this was true, her father's quest for the Infinity Stones wasn't the inevitability she had always believed—it was a game, and Thanos might not even be the one holding the winning hand. Her lips twisted into a scowl.
'But Hela? She was supposed to be sealed! What the hell is going on here? What game is Odin playing now?' She wondered.
"Why would you tell me this?" she demanded. "You could have easily gotten rid of us."
Tivan's grin widened, his voice dripping with cunning. "Because, my dear Gamora, while I may be many things—hoarder, schemer, survivor—I am not loyal to lost causes. Thanos may seem invincible, but the path he treads is fraught with uncertainties. If he prevails against Odin, the cost will be great. And in such chaos, there will be… opportunities."
Gamora's blade pressed harder, her patience razor-thin. "Opportunities? For you, or for me?"
"For us, perhaps," Tivan said smoothly, his voice adopting a honeyed tone. "You'll do what you must to survive, just as I have. If Thanos wins, he will be vulnerable after such a clash. You, his so-called daughter, may see a future without his shadow looming over you. But to secure that future, you'll need more than brute strength."
Gamora's jaw tightened, the implications of his words gnawing at her resolve. "What are you proposing, Tivan?"
The Collector's eyes gleamed with wicked intent. "If Thanos prevails, Asgard's vaults will be ripe for the taking. Odin's original weapon—the spear forged in the fires of creation—and the Valkyrie's oldest blade, enchanted to cut through even the fabric of reality itself, will be among the spoils. That blade should be enough to... You know what I mean. Then, bring them to me, Gamora, and I will ensure that what remains of your father's empire crumbles to dust."
Gamora's grip faltered for a heartbeat, the weight of his proposal hanging in the air. "You expect me to betray Thanos? To risk everything for your collection?"
Tivan chuckled, the sound deep and sinister. "Oh, not just for my collection. For your freedom. Do you truly believe the Titan will share his power? That he will ever release you from his leash? No, Gamora. When the dust settles, you'll find yourself cast aside, just like Nebula. Unless you take control of your destiny. Think about it."
Gamora's emerald eyes burned with conflict as she stared down at him. The Collector's words were poison, seeping into her thoughts, but there was a bitter truth to them. She had seen how Thanos wielded power, how he discarded those who no longer served his purpose.
"And if Odin wins?" she asked, her voice a cold blade. "What then, Tivan?"
The Collector's grin turned sly, his gaze glittering with malice. "Then you'll have no need of me. Odin's wrath will scatter Thanos's forces, and you'll be free. But if the Titan stands victorious, you'll need the weapons of gods to ensure you remain standing. I am merely offering you a lifeline, child. The question is, will you seize it?"
Gamora stood motionless, her blade still at his throat, as her mind churned with possibilities. Tivan's proposal was dangerous, treacherous, and possibly suicidal. But it was also a chance—a sliver of hope in a universe dominated by her father's will. She activated the self-destruct bomb in the army behind her, causing them to explode into meat and blood. She couldn't possibly let them live and give Thanos this information.
"I'll consider it," she said finally, her voice low and venomous. "But if I find out you've lied to me, your fate will be worse than theirs..."
Tivan coughed, blood staining his ornate robe, yet his smile never wavered. "Oh, Gamora. I never lie. I simply… curate the truth."
With a swift motion, Gamora withdrew her blade, leaving the Collector gasping and clutching his neck. She sheathed the weapon and turned, her steps echoing through the dim archives. As the shadows swallowed her form, the Collector's laughter followed her—a chilling reminder of the tangled web she now found herself ensnared in.
"Let the game begin..." He wiped the blood off his mouth. His wounds began to heal as he stood, cracking his neck.
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