“What do you mean, Gladiator?” Carol asked in a hushed tone. Exactly what the hell was happening on this planet? And why the hell would she ever agree to be a fighter for someone insane enough to call themselves the Grandmaster.
The pale white and red geometric patterns on the walls bled into yellow, bright white, and blue. Door after door they passed through, with the shine of each corridor becoming more apparent. The guards wore different armour, heavier, with more flamboyant colouring. Their weapons looked to be a mix of spears and laser weaponry, while a few sported humming rifles.
Then, came the statues. Golden and shining, as if freshly polished, they were each of the same man but with different expressions. Happy, playful, pouting, thoughtful… the scent of perfume, incense, and then the sound of giggling. Faint music played, emanating from behind a large metal door.
It opened. Carol’s senses were assaulted by a tidal wave of smells – perfume and incense along with alcohol, and spicy food. The giggling was drowned by over the top laughter, and there were an assortment of people with clothing which was over the top in design and colour. Some spared the two glances as they entered, but more kept gambling, or drinking.
At the center of it all was a large, crescent moon couch with a white frame and yellow silk cushions. Beautiful women and men sat on it, lounging, drinking, and sampling fruit. Clothing appeared to be an afterthought to all of them, as instead they were covered in body paint and jewelry.
And with them was a white-haired man in gaudy robes, lips pursed in thought as his gaze flicked between three men locked into hovering chairs. He looked like the sort of person to call himself the Grandmaster. She almost didn’t notice the kree in modified accuser armour stood proudly with a long rifle.
“They’re delightful, I wish I could keep them all,” the Grandmaster clasped his hands together, “you always bring me such interesting potential. But, ah, I think I’ll take the grim looking one, on the left. And, the middle.”
The bounty hunter nodded, “and the last?”
“Hm,” the Grandmaster became thoughtful once more. Carol could hear the last captive quietly sobbing. “Topaz, what do you think?”
A stern looking woman narrowed her eyes at the last man. There was a hint of something sinister in her expressions.
“And there you have it!” He clapped his hands, and the chairs began to move on their own accord. “Don’t worry, you’ll love the kitchen to bits!”
Carol frowned, that probably didn’t bode well. As the kree was paid, he turned and hesitated when he saw Carol. He glared, but didn’t say anything as he passed by.
“Grandmaster,” the guard bowed, “These two are from the Asgardian Transit Authority. It appears one of our citizens did not provide proper tribute to Heimdall.”
“Didn’t pay the proper tribute? I can understand the grievance,” he sounded too amused by the whole thing. “Well—"
“Asgard doesn’t have a transit authority,” Topaz stated, Carol managed to keep a straight face as her heart pounded.
“What?” Grandmaster looked at her, confused. He gestured to the two, “these two are from the… what was it? Assgard Transportation Authority?”
“Asgardian Transit Authority,” Carol corrected with a friendly smile.
“See?” Grandmaster protested to Topaz. She was still scowling.
“Sorry,” Carol tilted her head as she met Topaz’s ruthless stare. “Have you ever been to Asgard?”
“No,” Topaz quickly replied.
“Then how would you know?” Carol followed up, she crossed her arms.
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