Gamora found that she actually liked Moondragon. Or well, perhaps like was too strong a word. But she appreciated her and the fact that she seemed to approve of any clothing choice Gamora made. In fact, she found the other woman to be imminently sensible when it came to the amount of uncovered skin.
Not like some people who seemed to think cleavage meant invitation.
Which was why she found herself in front of Moondragon’s door, in the wee hours, stark naked. Someone, whom she would bloodily murder, regardless of how much Adam liked the little goat-legged pest, had stolen all of her clothes. And knowing the little pest, he’d enjoy it if she showed up to murder him naked. Not to mention it was getting a bit chilly.
She rubbed her arms, feeling goosebumps under her fingers, when the door opened, and Moondragon in a loose shirt appeared before her. She gave her bemused look, but only for a moment. Then her expression changed to that of understanding, and she let out a hiss of “Pip” as stepped aside to let Gamora in.
“I know exactly what you came here for,” she said.
“Clothes,” Gamora said, just in case, and after a moment added, “and vengeance.”
Moondragon’s smile was as cold as the frozen nitrogen seas of Ipsya V, when she said, “You’ve come to the right person.”
Pip the Troll knew he was a dead man. He told himself he regretted nothing, as he dove into a pile of Gamora’s strategic scraps of fabric and fishnet, then lighted a cigar. The smell would eventually leave, after all, so it wasn’t that much of a big deal. Well, unless Gamora made it. Sometimes women were very unreasonable. But Pip didn’t mind at the moment.
Eventually, Gamora would find out and come to confront him. In the nude. He sighed happily at the thought. The few bruises would be a welcome price for the spectacle. After all, Adam would intervene and convince Gamora this was not an offense worth killing someone for. Maybe he’d have to grovel a bit, but Pip was confident he could do that very very convincingly.
No, he absolutely did not regret a thing.
Gamora had been listing various ways of murdering Pip ever since she’d entered Heather’s room. She hadn’t stopped when she was dressing, and in fact didn’t seem to intend to stop for such trivial activities as breathing.
Heather was impressed. The kind of incandescent fury was… well, magnificent to behold, perhaps like a tiger or lion pacing before it jumps for the kill. She thought for a moment that she could keep on watching and listening to Gamora the whole day, but squashed the thought. A higher being like herself had no use for such trivial feelings.
Still, as much as Moondragon thought Pip deserved punishment, she didn’t think murder would be the right solution. There were certain considerations that would make it not much of a lesson.
“Someone will bring him back to life,” Moondragon said calmly, as she carefully worked the fabric of her leotard so that it fit Gamora’s shape better. The other woman was slightly shorter and had slightly broader shoulders than Heather, but fortunately not so much that the clothes wouldn’t fit at all. “We need to think of something that will make him feel as…”
“Violated?” Gamora suggested through gritted teeth. “How about we castrate him then?”
“I like the way you think, but may I make a suggestion?” Moondragon replied, slinging an arm over Gamora’s shoulders. “There are technologies which would restore him. But if I place a certain suggestion in his mind, there is no—well, almost no one—in the universe to rival my skills as a telepath.”
“You mean, no one will be able to undo it?” Gamora asked smiling like a shark. “And it could be anything?”
“Well then…” Gamora grinned fiercely. “I have a few ideas. Let’s start with making him run away whenever he sees naked breasts.”
Pip the Troll found himself regretting his actions approximately half an hour later. First, his cigar had made him violently sick, and then subsequently every single one he tried to light later did the same. Then, certain magazines failed to have an effect. In fact, he found himself unable to find aroused to anything.
And he kept breaking into some sort of weird high-pitched scream whenever he saw certain parts of the anatomy. It wasn’t even a cry of excitement. No, it was instead, “RUN! I AM A HORRIBLE DISGUSTING PILE OF SHIT!”
And then, he found out that every time he thought the word “unfair” he needed to hit the wall with his head.
“MOONDRAGON!” he roared. “This is unfair!”
And promptly slammed his head into the nearest wall.
It seemed like it was time to enlist Adam for help, and then grovel. Except, when instead of walking out to find Warlock, he found himself quacking like an Earth duck.
That was when he realized just how deeply, terrifyingly evil both Gamora and Moondragon were. He should have stuck to annoying Thanos and the like. Death was the preferable option.