"Hey, quit gawking and move your legs. We're almost there, and I don't get paid by the hour to be your tour guide."
The stocky Yumi barked the order over her shoulder, her boots echoing against the pristine Xandarian pavement. Leander Hayes pulled his gaze away from a passing hover-barge and quickened his pace. After a twenty-minute ride in a cramped, humming air-taxi that smelled faintly of ammonia, they finally touched down in front of a massive silver structure. It was shaped like a truncated pyramid, its surfaces catching the dual-sunlight of Xandar and casting sharp, geometric shadows across the plaza.
The building was a hub for open-air commerce, with tiers of shops spiraling upward, but the atmosphere here was different from the bustling spaceport. Pedestrian traffic was thinning out the higher they climbed. By the time they reached the upper levels, the vibrant crowds had vanished, replaced by a heavy, expectant silence.
"Hatton's place is just around the corner," Yumi whispered, her voice dropping as they stepped off an escalator on the fourth floor. "Most of the folks who come up this high are regulars. You don't just 'stumble' into Hatton's shop. Lately, the foot traffic has dried up entirely. People are getting jumpy."
They stopped in front of a small metal door. It was completely nondescript—no neon signs, no holographic advertisements, just a slab of dull grey alloy that looked exactly like the maintenance closets surrounding it.
Yumi glanced at the reinforced suitcase in Leander's hand. She noticed how casually he carried it, despite the fact that the weight of the exotic alloy inside should have been snapping his humeral bone. She swallowed hard, a flicker of genuine apprehension crossing her purple face. But then she looked at Leander's youthful face, his messy hair, and his wide, curious eyes. She smirked. Just a kid with a lucky find, she told herself.
She turned her palm over, and a flickering virtual screen projected from a chip in her wrist. After tapping a few commands, a matching interface bloomed on the surface of the door. She punched in a sequence and pressed the call button.
"Hey! It's Yumi! Open up before I grow old out here!"
The screen crackled to life, revealing a massive, sweating face with skin the color of tarnished silver, crisscrossed by vibrant green venous patterns. "Old Yumi? Why are you darkening my doorstep? You still owe me thirty energy crystals from that botched run in the Klyn. Have you finally come to pay up?"
"Give me a break, Hatton," Yumi groaned. "You promised a discount on that last batch of sensors. Now, quit whining and open the door. I brought you a live one. A real business opportunity."
The screen blinked out, and the heavy metal door slid into the wall with a hydraulic hiss. A secondary protective curtain of shimmering energy flickered and rose, allowing them entry.
The interior was a jarring contrast to the cramped hallway. The shop spanned hundreds of square meters, filled with a labyrinth of transparent glass display cases. Soft, blue-tinted spotlights illuminated the merchandise, making the room glow like a treasure hoard. There were pulse-rifles, ancient-looking artifacts, and rows of glowing technological components that Leander couldn't even name.
In the center of one case, Leander spotted a small, pale purple power battery. It was identical to the one Jason had been fussing over on the ship.
A low, mechanical whirring sound approached them. Hatton emerged from the shadows of the back room, seated in a massive, motorized wheelchair that looked more like a small tank. His silver skin glistened under the shop lights as he rolled to a stop, his small, dark eyes boring into Leander.
"You're a new flavor," Hatton grunted, his voice sounding like gravel in a blender. "What rock did you crawl out from? You don't smell like the local trash."
Leander didn't flinch. He let the suitcase slide from his hand. It skated across the polished floor with a heavy, metallic ring before stopping perfectly at the foot of Hatton's wheelchair. "I'm here to sell. I was told you buy high-grade metal."
"Everyone's got 'high-grade' metal until I put it under the scanner," Hatton sneered. He tapped a control on his armrest, and two small, autonomous hauling carts scurried out, latched onto the case, and dragged it toward a massive sensing array at the back of the room.
As Hatton rolled after the carts, he tossed a thumb over his shoulder. "Look around if you must, but keep your hands in your pockets. I've got high-end stock here—stuff you won't find on the public markets. If Yumi wasn't vouching for you, you'd still be standing in the hall."
"Don't call me old, you silver tub of lard," Yumi shot back, though she stayed close to Leander. "You've got a lot of fresh inventory, Hatton. Business picking up?"
"Business is a nightmare," Hatton complained, staring intently at the monitors of the sensing device as they began to scroll with data. "Xandar is tightening the noose. The Nova Corps is cracking down on anyone with a bounty over a thousand credits. My suppliers are getting caught or going into hiding. I have to stock up now or I'll be selling ration bars by next cycle."
Hatton pointed a thick finger at the ceiling without looking back. "And boy? Don't even think about touching the displays. Those four electromagnetic spheres in the corners aren't there for decoration. They're calibrated to vaporize anything larger than a rodent."
Leander slowly withdrew his hand from the glass of a nearby case. In the four corners of the high ceiling, large, glowing spheres hummed with a low-frequency vibration. They were tracking his movements with predatory precision.
"He's not joking, Leo," Yumi whispered, leaning in. "Every rookie gets the 'don't touch' speech. People come in here thinking they're fast; they usually end up as a scorch mark on the floor."
Leander nodded, his eyes drifting back to the pale purple battery. "What is that thing, anyway? I've seen them around, but I don't know what makes them special."
"That," Hatton said, finally turning his chair around, "is a Kree-spec high-output cell. Their military just made the switch. The efficiency is through the roof, though they tend to burn out faster if you push 'em. But you put one of those in a standard blaster? You're looking at a twenty-five percent jump in kill-power. They're like gold on the black market right now because nobody wants to steal from the Kree. Not with Ronan the Accuser breathing down everyone's necks."
Hatton leaned forward, a greedy glint in his small eyes. "You've got good taste, kid. Retail is six thousand liras. For you, since you're with Yumi? Five thousand five hundred."
Leander raised an eyebrow. "Six thousand? That's... a lot. I've seen a few of these recently."
Hatton froze. "You have? If you've got a stash of Kree cells, I'll buy the lot. Two thousand eight hundred credits a piece, cash on the barrel."
"Not on me," Leander said with a shrug. "A partner of mine has them, but he's probably sold them by now. Can I... can I hold it?"
Hatton studied Leander's face for a long moment. Finally, he tapped his armrest. The glass lid of the display case slid back with a soft chime. "Go ahead. Evaluate it. Think of it as an investment in our future relationship."
Leander reached out and picked up the battery. It was roughly the size of a smartphone but surprisingly heavy. It pulsed with a rhythmic, violet light that seemed to throb against his palm. As his skin made contact with the casing, his internal hunger—that deep, aching void that had been growing since he left Earth—roared to life. He didn't mean to do it. It was an instinct, a reflex of his evolving biology.
CRACKLE!
A jagged web of dark purple electricity erupted from the battery, crawling up Leander's arms like living snakes. The air in the shop turned sharp with the smell of scorched ozone.
TICK-TICK-TICK!
Instantly, the four electromagnetic spheres on the ceiling dropped a few inches, glowing a fierce, angry red as they locked onto Leander's chest. Hatton reacted with a speed that defied his bulk; an iridescent energy shield shimmered into existence around his wheelchair, and two twin-linked machine guns deployed from the chassis, barrels spinning.
Yumi scrambled backward, a compact pulse-pistol appearing in her hand as if by magic. "Leo! Drop it! What are you doing?!"
Leander didn't move. He stood there, eyes closed, as the purple lightning was sucked into his pores. The battery in his hand began to dim, the vibrant violet fading into a dull, lifeless grey. In less than two minutes, the energy was gone, completely consumed by his body.
"I... I'm sorry," Leander said, his voice steady as he placed the dead husk back on the velvet cushion. "I haven't... I haven't eaten in a while. The cost of the battery. Just deduct it from whatever you're paying me for the metal."
He looked at Hatton and Yumi. Despite the display of power, he still looked like a harmless teenager—just one with a very strange appetite.
Hatton stared at him, his silver skin turning a shade paler. Slowly, he signaled his defense systems to stand down. The spheres retracted, and the guns slid back into his chair.
"I've seen a lot of freaks in this galaxy," Hatton breathed, his voice a mixture of awe and terror. "But that? That's some Inhuman-level garbage right there. I heard the Kree were experimenting with units that could eat energy, but you don't look like a Kree soldier. What are you?"
Leander just offered a small, cryptic smile.
Hatton grunted and turned back to his scanning station. "I hope for your sake that this metal of yours is worth a fortune. You just 'ate' five thousand credits worth of ordnance."
The scanning device was finishing its work. A robotic arm retracted, having just finished stress-testing a small shaving of Leander's alloy. Hatton's eyes widened as the final report scrolled across his screen. The numbers didn't make sense. The hardness was off the charts, and the energy conductivity was unlike anything in his database.
Leander turned to Yumi. "Could I have a minute with Mr. Hatton alone? I'll pay your finder's fee, the full amount."
Yumi looked surprised, her eyes darting between the two. She realized something big was happening—something beyond her pay grade. "Sure, kid. Whatever you say. Hatton, I'll be in the warehouse checking on my other shipment. Don't let him eat the rest of your shop."
Hatton waved her off, opening a side door that led deeper into the complex. Yumi stepped through, the door sealing behind her.
"You're not just here for the credits, are you?" Hatton asked, turning his chair to face Leander fully. The greed was gone, replaced by the sharp focus of a man who dealt in the most dangerous currency in the universe: secrets.
Leander stepped closer, his eyes glowing with a faint, residual purple light. "I need information. I'm looking for someone. A human. Or at least, he was human when he left."
Hatton tilted his head. "A human on Xandar? That's a short list. Who?"
"His name is Peter Quill," Leander said. "Do you know him?"