Javier sat in the dimly lit chambers of the Black Order's fortress, alone with his thoughts. His plan had been bold, but it was beginning to feel like an uphill battle. Proxima Midnight, Nebula, and Gamora had each shown their resistance to his advances, each in their own way. The raw energy he had initially felt, the desire to break down their walls and create something real, was slowly turning into frustration. The deeper he tried to go, the colder they became.
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It had started with small gestures—attempts to make them laugh, share moments, give them a glimpse of a side of him they hadn't seen before. He had thought it would be simple. But these women weren't like others he had encountered. Their hearts had been forged in battle, hardened by years of torment. And they were not easily won.
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The first to test his resolve was Nebula. One evening, he found her alone in the training room, her expression sharp as she practiced with her blades, the sound of metal cutting the air like a storm.
He leaned casually against the doorframe, watching her with an unreadable expression. He had been doing this often—lingering in their spaces, finding ways to be close without being intrusive. He thought she might have noticed, but she never acknowledged him.
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Javier: "You know, you don't have to keep training so hard. You've already proven your skill. I'm just here to keep you company."
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Nebula paused mid-swing, her eyes locking onto his. She didn't smile, didn't even flinch. Just stared at him with those cold, calculating eyes.
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Nebula: "You think I need company, Javier? You think you can distract me from the pain that drives me? I don't need your sympathy."
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Javier took a step closer, undeterred by her icy response. He had to try again.
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Javier: "It's not sympathy, Nebula. It's understanding. I get that you've been through a lot, but you don't have to go through it alone."
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Nebula didn't respond. She simply turned back to her training, ignoring him once again. Javier stood there for a moment, the weight of her rejection settling in. But he wasn't one to give up easily. He had come this far. He would keep pushing.
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Next came Proxima Midnight. She was always fierce, always on guard. But tonight, she had been sitting on the balcony, looking out over the Black Order's fortress, her posture relaxed for once. Javier took his chance, moving toward her with a slow and deliberate step.
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Javier: "It's nice to see you without that constant fire in your eyes. I think I'm starting to like this version of you."
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Proxima didn't even turn to look at him. She just kept staring out into the distance, her voice low but cutting.
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Proxima Midnight: "You're wasting your time, Javier. This act… it's tiresome."
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Javier felt a sting at her words, but he refused to let it show. He stepped closer, reaching out to gently touch her arm, hoping to soften her defenses.
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Javier: "It's not an act, Proxima. I'm serious. I don't just want to win you over. I want to understand you. All of you."
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Proxima's eyes flicked to his for a brief second, but there was no warmth there—only coldness, like the sharpness of a blade. She pulled away from him, standing up quickly.
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Proxima Midnight: "Then understand this: I don't need anyone. Especially not you."
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Javier sighed, the rejection stinging more than he had anticipated. He turned away, but his heart wasn't ready to give up.
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Finally, there was Gamora. She was perhaps the most complicated of the three—her walls built not just from pain but from years of being torn between loyalty to Thanos and her own desire for something more. Javier knew this would be the hardest of all.
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One evening, he found her in the garden, her gaze far off as she stood by the edge of a small pool. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting a soft glow around her. Javier approached, trying to keep his presence light and unthreatening.
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Javier: "Gamora… we haven't talked in a while. How about a walk? Just the two of us."
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Gamora's eyes flicked to him, but she didn't smile. She didn't even seem to consider his words for long.
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Gamora: "Why? So you can try to change my mind like you've done with the others? You think I'm some project to fix, don't you?"
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Javier shook his head, taking a step closer, trying to meet her eyes.
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Javier: "No. I think you're someone worth knowing. Not fixing, Gamora. Just… knowing."
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But Gamora simply turned her back to him, her voice firm as she walked away.
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Gamora: "I'm not interested, Javier. Not in your games."
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Javier watched her retreat into the shadows, feeling the weight of her words. He stood there, motionless, as the night seemed to swallow him whole. He had tried. He had given his all, but it wasn't enough.
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The days that followed were a mix of bitter silence and internal reflection. Every gesture, every attempt to break through their walls only seemed to drive them further away. He could feel the walls they had built around their hearts, walls forged in pain, betrayal, and loss. And for the first time, Javier wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew.
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Despite all this, Javier was not a man who easily accepted defeat. He had no illusions about the difficulty of the journey ahead, but he knew one thing: he would not stop. He would continue to push, continue to fight for their attention, their affection, and in time, perhaps… their hearts.
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End of Chapter 68: The Silence of Rejection
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