[The prisoners spun around at the sound of the deep, resonant voice. From the shadows of the shower room entrance, Drax slowly erged, his massive, tattooed fra filling the doorway. The n instinctively took a step back.]
["Does anyone here not know who I am?" Drax asked, his gaze locked on Gamora, though his question was for her captors.]
["Drax… the Destroyer," one of them stamred.]
[Peeking around a corner, Star-Lord watched the scene unfold. Rocket tugged frantically at his pants from behind. "Quill! Quill, what are you doing?!"]
[Ignoring him, Drax took another step into the room. "And do you know why they call this?"]
[The lead prisoner swallowed hard. "You… you've killed dozens of Ronan's n."]
[A wave of pure agony washed over Drax's face. "Ronan murdered my wife, Ovette, and my daughter, Kamaria! He slaughtered them as they slept, and he laughed!"]
[Rocket knew that Star-Lord was about to do sothing incredibly stupid, and that Drax was not a being to be trifled with. "Quill!" he whispered urgently.]
[Drax's cold eyes swept over the prisoners holding Gamora. "Her life is not yours to take. Ronan took my family. I will take my revenge upon his soul."]
[Gamora stared back at him, her expression unreadable.]
["Of course, Drax… she's all yours," the prisoner said, cautiously offering the knife to him, handle-first.]
[In that split second, as all eyes turned to Drax, Gamora saw her chance. In a blur of motion, she twisted, locking the arm of the prisoner holding her while snatching the knife from the man on her right, dragging its edge across his throat. With a sharp kick to the other prisoner's knee, she broke her grip, seized the second knife, and in the next instant, she held both blades to the throats of the remaining two n.]
[Seeing the sudden explosion of violence, Star-Lord moved to intervene.]
["Quill! What are you doing?!" Rocket hissed, trying to pull him back by his pants. Quill slapped his paws away.]
[Gamora pressed her blade against the first prisoner's neck. "Let make one thing clear," she said, her voice dangerously low. "I am no family of Ronan. And I am no daughter of Thanos."]
[With that, she took a deliberate step back, throwing both knives to the floor with a clatter, showing she ant them no further harm.]
[The wounded prisoner clutched his bleeding neck, gasping in shock. Drax, however, remained perfectly calm, his eyes studying Gamora with a new intensity.]
[The two warriors locked gazes.]
["I am your only hope of getting to him," she stated.]
[At her words, Drax roared, lunging forward and grabbing her by the throat. He lifted her off the ground and slamd her hard against the tiled wall.]
["Woman! Your words an nothing to !" he bellowed, raising the dagger he'd been offered.]
[That was Star-Lord's cue. He rushed out from his hiding spot.]
["Whoa, hey, hey, hey! Big guy!"]
[Rocket slapped a paw over his face, groaning at his friend's suicidal heroism. "Oh, I can't watch."]
[Star-Lord held his hands up placatingly. "Look, I know you want to kill Ronan. We all get it. But this? This is not the way to do it!"]
[Drax glared at him, his grip on Gamora unwavering. "You are the Terran. The one she was trying to kill."]
[Star-Lord gave a casual shrug. "Eh. She ain't the first woman who's tried to kill ."]
[He lifted his shirt, revealing a nasty scar on his ribs.]
["See this? A Kylorian girl did that with a fork because I forgot to tell her I was leaving. In my defense, I didn't know what her forks were for."]
[He then pulled down his collar, showing another scar. "This one? A Kree lass who wanted to disembowel after she found with an A'askavariian."]
["And you want to talk about bad ideas? Ever seen an A'askavariian? They have tentacles and needle-sharp teeth!"]
[Star-Lord's rambling had its intended effect; the sheer absurdity of his stories was enough to montarily distract Drax from his rage.]
["I know you don't care about any of this," Quill continued, sensing a small opening. "The point is, this woman has betrayed Ronan. He will hunt her to the ends of the galaxy to kill her. And when he cos for her…"]
[Star-Lord slowly drew his index finger across his own throat, a universal gesture for death.]
[Drax stared at him, utterly baffled. "Why would I put my finger on his throat?"]
["What?" Star-Lord blinked, the confident flow of his speech grinding to a halt. He couldn't believe Drax didn't understand. He looked into his eyes and saw nothing but genuine confusion.]
["Oh. No, it's a taphor."]
["I do not understand 'taphor.'"]
["It ans you kill him!" Star-Lord explained, exasperated. "You slit his throat!"]
[Drax's expression didn't change. "I would not slit his throat. I would remove his head from his body."]
[Star-Lord was speechless for a second. How do you take a head off without slitting the throat? Do you just… pull really hard?]
[Shaking it off, he tried again. "Okay, look, the throat-slitting is just a symbol. It's a figure of speech that ans killing!" He turned to the other prisoners. "You guys have seen this gesture, right? You know what it ans?"]
["Yeah! Yeah, we know!" one of them nodded eagerly.]
["See? Everyone knows!" Star-Lord said, turning back to Drax.]
[The prisoner, seeing Drax's nacing glare, imdiately changed his tune. "No! No, I've never seen that in my life!"]
[Star-Lord shot him a withering look before taking a deep breath. "My point is… you need to keep her alive. She's your bait. Don't do Ronan's work for him."]
[Drax stared at Star-Lord, then at Gamora, who was struggling for breath in his grasp. Finally, after a long, tense mont, he released her.]
[Gamora collapsed to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. She couldn't believe the thick-headed brute had actually listened.]
[Drax picked up the knife from the floor. "I like your knife," he said to the prisoner who had offered it. "I'm keeping it."]
[The prisoner looked heartbroken. "But… that's my favorite knife…"]
"Okay, that guy is definitely a few bricks shy of a load," Rhodey remarked, unable to hold back a chuckle despite the grim situation they had just witnessed.
"Shy? He's missing the entire construction site," Tony snorted, shaking his head. "A classic case of a simple mind and strong limbs. He didn't even understand that to remove a head, you must first cut the neck!"
"I don't know," Natasha said, a thoughtful smile on her face. "There's a certain purity to it. He's not trying to be witty or deceptive. He just… is."
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