Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Narrator: Somewhere in the middle of the a town square in Xandar, standing outside the burning ruins of the destroyed Kree warship, the Dark Aster, The Guardians held hands together as Peter Quill, The Star Lord, holds the powerful Infinity Stone.  The very Infinity Stone that was said to be so powerful that it would merely destroy any being it comes in contact with.  And yet…

Ronan The Accuser looks in confusion as he says, “But how?”

“You said so, bitch,” replied Quill, “We’re the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

A powerful blast emanated from the Infinity Stone and directed its way into Ronan.  Horrified, Ronan let out an agonising roar as the beam goes through him and then, there was an explosion.  The impact of the explosion was so tremendous, it threw the Guardians a few yards away along with the Xandarian bystanders. 

Suddenly, bits of tin and round metallic objects went flying around followed by red, gooey bits that scattered throughout pelting everyone and everything.

Gamora was the first one to open her eyes.  She nearly retched at the sight of blood and debris that seemed to have come from Ronan’s remains.  Except…

“Cherry?” said Quill as he tasted the red pulp bits that landed on his wrist.

There was momentary silence.  The Guardians got up, all slightly dazed from the impact, and looked at the spot where Ronan once stood and heard a faint groan coming from that direction. 

Gamora squinted her eyes as she stared at the crumpled figure on the ground.

“Ronan?”

Quill whispered, “What the fuck?”

Narrator: Exactly 10 minutes and 10 seconds before that event, across the universe in another galaxy and in a small corner of the Earth, a different predicament is occurring in a shop called The Pie Hole…

“Ned, are you stressed?” was a question directed at a man who is busy kneading a pie crust.  A man whose look is obviously showing that he’s not in his happy element.

“Me? Of course not,” was the terse reply.

“Ned, we can see that you’re lying,” said the dark haired woman.  His childhood sweetheart and the love of his life.  Once dead but came back to life, courtesy of him.

“And I can see your eye twitching”, said another woman, a blonde petite.  Of course, she knows that he’s lying with his feelings.  After all, he’s neighbour, her employer for several years now, and the object of her failed romantic affection.

“I...I’m not stress baking.  I am baking because I want to distract myself,” answered the man called Ned, more known as The Pie Maker, the proprietor of The Pie Hole and the sole reason of its success, not only because of his pie making skills, but also because his peculiar secret of being able to bring back dead things to life, like the fruits he uses, from their rotten state back to their plucked ripe from the stem freshness.  

On that very day, the Pie Maker decided to shut his shop that day, not because he’s stressed about his pies but of an innocuous event.

“Ned,it’s only a comic book convention,” said the dark haired woman, born Charlotte Charles, who answers to her nickname, Chuck.

“But why do I have to go along with you?” he answered as he donned his kitchen gloves before dumping a bowl of cherries into the ready pie crust.  The gloves were a necessity lest his cherries turn back to their rotten state at the slightest brush of his finger.

“Maybe because your assistance is very much needed for the ongoing investigation at that convention?” was the sarcastic reply from a tall black man called Emerson Cod, a private investigator.  The assistance that he’s referring to is Ned’s peculiar talent and something that they’re keeping from Olive, the blonde woman.

While this discussion is going back and forth, the Pie Maker is too stressed that he forgot that he had preheated the oven behind him.  And now, the oven is aching to receive a sacrifice.  The very pie that he’s still making and it’s growing impatient every minute. 

If the oven is a sentient being, it would have decided to forgive Ned and wait for a few more minutes.  And yet, its hunger kept growing…only, it realised that it’s not its hunger that it is feeling.  It was something else.  Something altogether difficult to explain.

“I’m just not comfortable with dressing up and going undercover,” continued the Pie Maker, “besides, I’m not comfortable with competitions.”  Still, all four of them remain oblivious to the glowing light slowly emanating from the oven and it continues to grow bigger at the minute.

“And I decided, no, I’m not going…” the Pie Maker finally said as he snatched the pie and turned to the oven.  Suddenly, they are all aware of the light, now a large bright vortex.  The oven was right.  It wasn’t hunger. 

Before Ned could say anything, he was suddenly sucked into the vortex, along with the few pans and pie dish. 

“NED!” Chuck screamed as she stretched her arms out by instinct, but Emerson quickly grabbed her and Olive and all three quickly ducked behind the counter as an instantaneous explosion rocked the kitchen followed by smoke and flinging some debris.

When all was still, Emerson, Olive, and Chuck cautiously got up, coughing occasionally through the smoke.  They all stared in horror at the crumpled figure on the kitchen floor.  All three were worried that Ned got killed by the explosion only to be slightly relieved when they heard a groan.

Chuck quickly donned a pair of kitchen gloves and with Olive and Emerson, went to aid the injured Pie Maker. 

Although the face is clearly Ned’s, there appears to be a strange tinge of blue and streaks of black paint on his skin… 

Chapter Text

Narrator: After his mother’s death, 9 years old Ned was sent to the Longborough Boarding School for Boys by his father on the promise that he would return.  Only for Ned to later discover that his father had moved away, remarried, had other children, and had seemingly forgotten him.  That discovery, he felt, was the worst period of his life.  Or so he thought…

23 years, 7 months, 10 days, 2 hours, 8 minutes and 45 seconds later….

After a brief blackout, Ned slowly opened his eyes, feeling a slight headache.  Slowly, he’s starting to feel the crunchy, unpaved ground he’s lying on, the faint hint of burning smoke somewhere in the vicinity, the humdrum of a distant crowd, and the bright light.  Adding all these factors, his mind deduced that he’s outdoors.  The explosion from the kitchen must have been so great that it threw him outside the Pie Hole. 

Suddenly, he became aware of the shadows standing over, looking down at him.

“Chuck? Olive? Emerson?” he blurted.

His eyes widened as his vision became clear and showed no familiar faces.  Standing before him are strangers and the worse thing, with the exception of one, the rest looked…not human.

“AAAAAAAAAAAH!!! WHO ARE YOU?!” he screamed at them.

“Good question, man,” the human face replied, “we also want to ask the same thing.”

“And you are under arrest, Ronan the Accuser, for numerous crimes against Xandar and other races,” added another gruff voice.  This time, Ned saw that this belonged to a uniformed individual and along with several similar uniformed men, seemed to be aiming large, horrifying futuristic-looking guns at him.

“Oh no,” Ned softly uttered.

Narrator: Back in The Pie Hole, the explosion, however great it was, had fortunately caused minimal damage to the premises and mostly contained in the kitchen.  A certain Robert Carson Briggs, the architect of the building where the Pie Hole is situated, aware of such possibilities due to his personal experience of accidentally destroying his kitchen, thankfully had the foresight to provide sturdier, earthquake proof walls, in case such catastrophe occurs.

 “Ned! Ned! Are you ok?” Chuck cried as Olive and Emerson helped the injured man from the kitchen floor. 

Although they could all see that the man that they picked up from the floor have Ned’s face, Emerson, Olive and Chuck couldn’t help but notice that this man is now wearing strange, dark clothing, a dark scaly hood, and now sporting blue skin hue and smears of black paint on his face.

“Where am I?” were the words that drawled from the lips smeared with black paint. 

“Still on Earth, Pie Boy,” replied Emerson carefully assessing whether Ned (or so he thinks) would need further medical attention or not, “We were worried that that explosion would have blasted you out into space.”

“Earth?! Planet C-53?” uttered the blue-skinned man with Ned’s face as panic slowly crept on his face. “I’m on Earth?! How?!”

For the first time, Ronan became aware of the unfamiliar density of the atmosphere.  He wanted to jump up and get away from the arms that are holding him up but somehow, he felt too weak to protest as Olive and Emerson dragged him to sit down on one of the cushioned seats.  Chuck decided to grab a clean dishtowel, run it under warm water and took it to clean Ronan’s face.  Slowly, all of the black paint came off leaving the blue skinned face clean again.

For a Kree who is used to a strict militaristic upbringing, this gesture is something too unfamiliar and too unsettling, especially for a high ranking officer like The Accuser. 

“Enough,” he gruffly commanded but it seemed that Chuck didn’t hear him.

“I said, ENOUGH!” Ronan roared at Chuck, and he started to lean over to grab her throat with one hand.

“Ned, NO!” Emerson scrambled to stop him, still believing that Ronan is Ned, and knows very well what Ned’s touch would do to a living thing that it brought back from the dead…

But he was too late and watched in horror as Ronan grabbed Chuck by the throat.  Olive screamed as well but she, too, couldn’t do anything.

Chuck screamed and closed her eyes.  She knows that a touch from Ned, the very person who brought her back to life, would mean that she’ll now be dead for good…

Narrator: In a split second, flashes of memories came past. Of their time as children play pretending as Godzilla monsters destroying the town of the clay people, her father’s death, their first and possibly only kiss, when Ned kissed her back to life, their numerous adventures solving mysteries with Emerson and Olive...memories that didn’t seem to end into darkness.

She opened her eyes and surprised to see that not only is she still alive but Ned, or this blue skinned man with Ned’s face, is touching her.  Or to be more specific, holding her by the throat.

She stopped panicking and stared back at the blue skinned man.  Although she realised that his eyes are purple, the fact that she’s being touched by a man with Ned’s face seemed eerily comforting.

Slowly, a small smile curved upon her lips as she gingerly touched his hand.

Ronan, seeing this strange reaction, saw his anger disappear and decided to take his hand off Chuck.  It seemed that this planet’s atmosphere has robbed him of his superhuman strength as well. 

Without his Universal Weapon and his strength, The Accuser realised that he might be in great disadvantage in the company of these Earthlings.

Narrator: Meanwhile, two and a half million light years away, The Pie Maker was whisked away from the rubble littered ground that he was lying on and was marched to an advanced looking building, surrounded by the uniformed men, who despite appearing armed to the teeth, kept looking at him with fear and apprehension.  Who are they? He thought.  Is this his punishment for the kitchen explosion? Are they the insurance people? Is he being summoned by the Mayor of Papen County for the damage that he had caused?

Ned was surprised that he was made to stand in the middle of a grand hall surrounded by the armed guards.  Facing him was a white haired, middle aged woman, who exudes the air of dignity of a public official.  The town mayor of Papen County? This is it; he thought.  This might be the end of The Pie Hole.

“Ronan the Accuser,’’ she began as she stared at him, ‘for your genocidal crimes against my people, it is fitting to have you sentenced to death.’’

The Pie Maker’s bushy eyebrows furrowed.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered through his words, “there must have been a mistake…’’

The woman stared at him.

“What do you mean, a mistake?’’ she started, her annoyance growing into anger.

“Yes, it’s a mistake.’’

“A mistake? You called that just a mistake after you threatened to—”

“Well, I don’t see how the explosion in my kitchen could be that powerful enough to kill anyone…’’ Ned started to explain as he tried to grasp any sensible words to form his side of the argument.  He started to wonder where Emerson, Chuck, or Olive are because now is the time that he badly needs help.  Emerson might need to call a lawyer and Chuck or Olive can find ways to bail him out should he get thrown in jail.

He found the woman staring at him in a peculiar way.  Like he has two heads.  Ned slowly turned his head side to side just to make sure that he really didn’t have a second head.

Once again, he noticed that the surrounding guards looked apprehensive and collectively nervously aiming their horrible guns at him.

“Are you trying to mock me and my people after what you’ve done, Ronan the Accuser?” the woman began again.

“N-no, I didn’t mean to, ma’am,” Ned is now starting to panic.  Anytime soon, either he’ll wind up in jail or the guards will deep fry him with their guns.  He calmed himself down a little as he began to speak again but paused as something caught up on his brain.

“Wait, why are you calling me Ronan the Accuser?”

She quickly approached him, and he saw that she’s going to slap him on the face but before she could do so, she was hit by a laser gun in the middle of her chest.  Promptly, the woman dropped dead to the floor.  There was instant panic followed by a few people screaming.

Ned turned around and saw at the very end of the hall, a blue skinned man, wearing a totally different uniform, carrying a gun and is making its way to him.

“I will save you, Lord Ronan!’ the blue skinned creature yelled.  It was running too quickly and very nimbly dodging every shot fired by the multiple guards. 

Instinct told The Pie Maker to touch the dead woman’s wrist.  He momentarily stared at his wristwatch and just as he predicted, after 60 seconds, the blue skinned creature dropped dead much to everyone’s amazement.

There was silence followed by collective gasps as the white haired woman started to move. 

Ned looked and saw that the guards are not only afraid and apprehensive but are also confused.  One woman quickly ran and helped the white haired woman back on her feet.

“What happened?’’ the white haired woman asked as she touched her chest because she felt sure that she was shot but could not feel any sign of pain or injury.

“Nova Prime,’’ the younger woman replied as she helped her boss while fixing her stare at Ned, “I believe, The Accuser have just saved your life.’’

Chapter Text

Narrator: For his part in bringing back Nova Prime Rael to life, Ned’s sentence was reduced from death to banishment back to the Hala planet, home of the Kree Empire, on the condition that he would never set foot on Xandar ever again and be near the Nova Prime.  A sentence that even Ned is too grateful to accept.  The case of the Kree warrior who died in exchange for the Nova Prime’s second life, was deduced down to the Kree equivalent of a heart attack.

Ned found himself handcuffed and aboard a spaceship called The Milano on the way to Hala.  The spaceship’s proud and flamboyant owner, a music loving human with a flair for dancing, is called Peter Quill, who also likes to be called Star Lord.

“So, let’s start again from the beginning,’’ said Quill as he and Rocket, an alien with the body and face of a raccoon and yet, talks and acts like a human, are expertly manoeuvring the ship past several asteroids across the galaxy, ‘You’re from Earth.’’

“Yes, can’t you see?’’

“And your name is not Ronan?’’

“No, my name is Ned.’’

“And you’ve never ever, in your entire life, planned to annihilate any race and destroy the Universe?’’

“What? No! All I remember is, I was trying to load the pie that I made to the oven when an explosion happened.  I thought I was being tried for causing damage to the Pie Hole.’’

Gamora, the green skinned female humanoid, stared at Ned as he continues to ramble about the procedure of pie making and how hot the oven should be.

“Quill,’’ she said, “I kinda trust him. He may look like Ronan without the blue skin and Kree clothing, but he certainly doesn’t come across to me as him.’’

“Wait, let me test him,” said Quill.  He momentarily turned to face Ned.  “Okay, some questions.  Name your favourite food.”

“Pie, obviously.  My mother used to make it for me.”

“Flavour?”

“Ummm…I don’t like to uh, sample my own food.  I usually make it for my customers.”

“But what is your favourite flavour to make?”

“Cherry?”

“What’s your favourite movie?’’

“Star Wars?’’ replied Ned, still unsure where this line of enquiry is heading.

“Hey, me, too man!” Quill whooped with joy.  “Empire Strikes Back or Return of the Jedi?”

“This is nonsense!” finally yelled Drax, the humanoid alien with grey skin and reddish skin marks.  “I still don’t trust this Kree, or this human, or whoever he is.  I still think he’s Ronan.”

“Please! We’re just running around here in circles,” cried Ned in frustration.

“We’re on a spaceship and we’re not running,” Drax corrected him in matter of fact tone. “And from what I could tell, we are flying in a straight direction.”

The conversation went quiet as The Milano entered the airspace of planet Hala, the capital of the Kree Empire.

Narrator: About a few million light years away, back on Earth, still reeling from his injuries and still adjusting to the Earth’s atmosphere, Ronan the Accuser was taken to Ned’s apartment with the help of Olive, Emerson and Chuck. 

There, he relayed to them the bits and pieces of what he remembered.

“So, let me get this from the top,” Emerson said in a tone that he uses when interrogating someone involved in a case that he works on, “your name is Ronan.”

“Yes, Ronan the Accuser.”

“And you said that you’re from this planet called Hala just doing your usual work for the empire and somehow, this group of people banded together and using this itty bitty gem thing, defeated you?”

“Yes, I actually thought that it would be the end of me considering how powerful that stone is and then…”

“And then you ended up here,” concluded Chuck.

“Yes,” Ronan agreed begrudgingly as he’s never closely interacted much with Earthlings before.  He may have encountered Captain Marvel but close encounter with ordinary Earthlings who seemed to have no superpowers, if he would admit to himself, is altogether, an entirely new and slightly intimidating experience.

Before getting shot by the Infinity Stone, he could have easily subdued the three Earthlings and escaped.  But in his current state, this escape would not be possible, not to mention the presence of a brown four-legged animal that reminds him of the fearful Kree Bloodhounds.  Unlike the Bloodhounds, this particular creature answers to the name Digby and seemed to be affable to Olive and Chuck. 

Narrator: Like Olive, Chuck, and Emerson earlier, Digby is also confused.  Here is someone who’s face is similar to his master, whose voice sounds similar to his master and yet…smelled different from his master.  Normally, for a dog, this would have been a good sign to attack this impostor.  But for some reason, none of his master’s friends looked afraid and seeing a fleeting moment of Chuck helping this stranger put on a bathrobe and brushing her hands against his skin and not dying adds further strangeness to the situation.

“This Ned that you keep mistaking me for,” it was Ronan’s turn to ask, “he runs that establishment downstairs?”

“Yeah, I’m Olive, his waitress,” answered Olive.

“I’m Chuck, his girlfriend,” chipped in Chuck.  Ronan noticed a faint hint of annoyance on Olive’s face upon hearing it.

“And I’m Emerson Cod, a private investigator,” answered Emerson.

“How are you associated to him?”

“Well,” Emerson began, looking around, trying to find ways on how to explain to The Accuser that Ned’s gift of raising the dead temporarily is helpful for him in his cases…without telling Olive the truth.  “You could say that Pie Boy, that’s what I call Ned, has a talent for detection.  He’s like an amateur American Sherlock Holmes.”

Ronan stared at him momentarily for he didn’t know what that reference meant.  Emerson picked this up and cleared his throat.

“What I mean is, Ned is my assistant detective.”

One of the Accuser’s bushy blue eyebrows arched. An Earthling who makes food and yet is a detective.  In his earlier life back in planet Hala, right after his mandatory military service, Ronan took upon a training as a member of the Kree police force.  As a stickler for rules, nothing annoys him more than lawbreakers.  As he doesn’t know how long he’s going to stay on Earth, or if he’ll ever get out of there at all, perhaps accompanying Emerson Cod and doing detective work might be a good past time and an opportunity to dust up on his detection skills.  Even in such an alien planet as Earth.

Narrator: About 20 light years away, upon arriving in Hala, The Pie Maker’s custody was handed over to one of the blue skinned men, who calls himself the Imperial Minister. 

“Ronan, I heard about you threatening to wipe out the Xandarians…” the Minister began.  Ned nervously smiled for, although he himself stands at 6 foot 5 inches tall, this Minister and several of the blue skinned guard members stand over 7 feet tall (thus, swaying his decision to keep his identity secret…for now).

“But after you were defeated, I heard that you also seemed to have saved Nova Prime Rael’s life,”

Ned’s smile brightened.

“Although it seemed that one of our warriors died mysteriously…”The Minister’s purple eyes began to glow sinisterly.

The smile melted away from Ned’s face.  Perhaps, this is his end.

“But for saving the Nova Prime, it has helped maintain the peace treaty that our empire made with them.  Well done for putting the situation in the favour of the Kree Empire.”  The Imperial Minister smiled—or rather, his very thin lips curved slightly that looks like what a snake attempting a smile would look like.

“Uhhh,” Ned began, unsure of where to begin, “so what happens to me?”

“To be truthful, we would have sentenced you to death,” the Minister replied in a matter of fact tone, “but based on the recommendation from Nova Prime and your highly commendable record as an Accuser, we are looking into assigning you to the judicial branch.”

Ned politely and shyly raised his hand. “Umm, given that I seemed to have lost my memory from the latest circumstances, I don’t think I am up for that right now.  How about…”

“Yes?” the Minister’s eyes glowed, this time with curiosity.  He has heard about Ronan the Accuser before and if he would admit to himself, although this being certainly matches the facial features of the Accuser, verified by their facial recognition system, somewhere in his gut is giving him a strange feeling.  Perhaps Ronan’s now lighter skin, brown hair and well, curious choice of clothing are the side effects of getting hit by the beam from the Infinity Stone.  Or maybe, it was the effect of the Xandarian atmosphere?

“How about I get assigned in a kitchen?” he heard Ned speak.

“The kitchen? The grand mess hall?”

“Y-yes, the mess hall!” Ned confirmed.

“Ah,” was The Minister’s only reply.

Narrator: In heart of the Kree empire, there is The Grand Mess Hall in the capital city of Kree-Lar, frequented by everyone from the highest to the lowest ranks in the Kree military. 

A mess hall that takes pride in providing nourishment with its superiorly tasty Kree dishes. 

A mess hall that lives up to its name of ‘grand mess’ as it is the usual site of brawls between the army, the judicial and the police force. 

Even the kitchen staff join in when boredom and frustration from working in an extremely busy mess hall hits them, which happens frequently.

Chapter Text

Narrator: When he first arrived at the Longborough Boarding School for Boys, 9 year old Ned found it difficult at first to adjust from living in the house with his parents to sharing the dormitory with other students.  Luckily, he found comfort baking pies even if it means missing his mother more and when caught feeding his fellow students in the middle of the night, getting sent to detention.

Upon arriving at the kitchen of the Gand Mess Hall, Ned realised what the Imperial Minister meant when he said, “Ah” when The Pie Maker confirmed that he chose to work in The Grand Mess Hall.  There he was, surrounded by an array of blue, grey, and pink skinned Kree kitchen staff, ranging from those a few inches shorter than him to those who are about 8 feet in height and built like a literal tank.

There is Bo-rax, the grey skinned dishwasher, who is constantly covered in soap suds; Gor-yu, the pink skinned assistant cook who is always in charge of setting up the ingredients and chopping up meat with his perpetually sharp large cleaver; Grenish and Cronk, the blue members of the kitchen staff, are cooks who are known for their constant bickering and would often take their arguments, when it gets heated, out in the mess hall as soon as a brawl begins (for the Cardinal rule is: ‘Keep the mess in the hall and out of the kitchen’); and Washyu and Mopyu, the cleaners and the skinniest members of the staff.  Managing the kitchen and ensuring that it is constantly up to frightening Kree standard of efficiency is the blue-skinned Kah-bo, the largest and bluest Kree of the group, who is always in constant argument with the leader of the hunting party and the Sakaarian supplier of flour, spices, and condiments.  While he doesn’t always join in the daily brawls, he makes it his duty to kick out any patron who would argue with the price of the meal.  Often times, he would also kick out anyone who criticizes the food or if he didn’t like the shade of their skin when the mood hits him.

“I’m afraid that we’ll have to assign you as one of the cooks, Ronan,” said Kah-bo.  “The hunting party is fully subscribed now so until another one of them gets killed, you won’t have the chance to join them.”

The hunting party is responsible for bringing in the meat ingredient from the animal species in the far and wide corners of the Kree empire.  Fortunately, the hunting party is a popular group with a constantly long waiting list of Kree men hoping to join them.  Secretly, The Pie Maker is glad about this arrangement.

Narrator: Meanwhile, back on Earth,

For Ronan, aged 200 years, 6 months, 4 days, 3 hours, 18 minutes and 30 seconds, the Earth equivalent age of a fully grown adult Kree, he acknowledges that adjusting from military life to civilian life would be challenging.  Adjusting from a Kree military life to a civilian life on Earth, however, is an altogether different kettle of alien fish. 

He decided that he had to dip into his survival skills training if he wanted to survive on Earth.  Even if it means donning The Pie Maker’s clothing.

“Is this how you wear this?” he asked Chuck turning around to show her after he buttoned one of the Pie Maker’s buttoned shirts and zipped up his pants.

Chuck inspected him closely.  There is nothing that can be done about the Kree’s blue tinged skin but at least, he seemed to have learned to choose the right colour combination of shirts and pants.

“Wait, let me help you with the top button,” he heard her say.  Before he could refuse and move away, Chuck moved closer and buttoned it. 

For a moment, they paused and stared at each other.  The Accuser noticed her blue eyes, like the blue quicksand in Morag during his survival training course.  The one that he reluctantly had to leave because it was cool and refreshing to his skin against the harsh, dry climate of Morag desert…then he felt something hairy brush against his leg.   Looking down, he was horrified to see Digby.

“Aaaah!” he instantly moved away from Chuck and pressed his back against the wall. 

“Don’t worry, Digby doesn’t bite.  Well, as long as you don’t give him the reason to bite you.” She cheerfully replied as she sat down and cuddled the dog.

“Don’t…don’t let him get near me!” Ronan breathlessly spoke extending one arm with his palm up.  If there’s anything that gives The Accuser, or rather, any Kree nightmares, it is the Kree Bloodhound acknowledging one’s presence, and this Earth creature is its closest counterpart on this planet.

Digby, not understanding human language, thought that The Accuser extending his arm and raising his palm meant an invitation to move closer and decided to accept it and sniffed Ronan’s palm.  The Accuser froze in horror, knowing that he’s trapped, as Digby closed in on him and smelled his hand.  He was grateful when finally, Chuck gently took Digby’s collar and led the dog away from him.

“I’m sorry if he frightened you.  He probably misses Ned.” She spoke with a tinge of sadness.  “We all do.”

Minutes later, wearing The Pie Maker’s earth clothing, The Accuser came to the newly cleaned up kitchen of The Pie Hole.  To a Kree, it is not an essential part of their upbringing to learn how to cook, unless they get assigned to work in The Grand Mess Hall or in the kitchen of one of the numerous outpost planets of the empire.  But for now, he must learn how to make food, a pie that is.  And also, they need to open the Pie Hole soon as Olive’s income and Ned’s bank account depend on it.

“Ned is very organised with making pies,” Olive explained to him as she laid out all the ingredients on the preparation table.  “so, I make sure that he has all the ingredients that he needs and arranged in proper order and then, he gets down to making the pie crust.”

“Fascinating,” Ronan nodded admiringly.  If there is anyone who gets the Kree respect, it is someone who always does things in a particular order.  Someone who gets things done with such military order and precision.

After following the recipe that Olive wrote down for him (all from memory of her years working with Ned), The Accuser managed to create several batches of pie crust, each exactly as what The Pie Maker would have created.

“Wow, well done!” Olive clapped her hands gleefully as soon as she saw the pie crust. “Oh, Ned would be envious because he’s always proud of creating the perfect pie crust.”

A faint smile crept on The Accuser’s blue face, which is a rare phenomenon, if he would admit to himself.  “Well then, where is the meat filling that we need to put in these pies?”

“Oh, we don’t make meat pies here,” she replied, “Ned’s a vegetarian you see, so we only serve fruit pies here.  Sometimes, we make vegetable pies when a customer specifically orders it, but only if they ask for it in advance.”

“Vegetarian? He eats vegetables?” The Accuser’s blue eyebrows knitted together.

“Yeah, you know, the ones from plants,” she answered, “the fruits are also from plants, if you notice.”

Slowly she began to notice Ronan’s stare turn blank followed by the blue tinge of his skin turning slightly lighter in shade. 

Back in the kitchen of The Grand Mess Hall of Hala,

“So, Ronan,” said Washyu as he whips out his long brush with the intention to clean up the long corridor of the preparation section, “I heard that you got beaten up by those criminals.  What do they call themselves?”

“Guardians of the Galaxy, I heard,” piped in Bo-rax.

“Hey, I’m not talking to you, washer!” Washyu barked back.

“Talk back to me like that and I’ll wash your teeth off!” Bo-rax threatened him with his soapy sponge.

“Break it up, both of you,” Kah-bo spoke, coming in from the back door, after his usual row with the Sakaarian supplier for the seemingly strange texture of the starch powder that was brought in that day.  “Do that after supper.  I heard that there will be less customers tonight.”

Ned was secretly grateful when the subject was dropped.  It was nearly lunch time, and the kitchen is starting to get busy with the two cooks yelling out instructions to Gor-yu, the assistant.  For his part, Gor-yu is busy chopping up the meat that the hunting party brought in that day as well as preparing the numerous bowls of spices with such Kree efficiency.

“So, what cooking specialty skill do you have, Ronan?” Cronk asked him, for in between joining the nightly brawls and cooking at the mess hall, his busy schedule does not allow him to keep up to date with the goings-on outside Hala.

“I bake pies.” Ned replied as he put on a large vestment, the uniform required for all kitchen staff.  At least, it’s something that he can say truthfully.

“Ah good, hopefully, it’s better than what Grenish makes here.” Cronk roared with laughter.  Washyu and Mapyu giggled but kept silent when the other cook gave them dagger stares.

“Just ask Gor-yu to bring you the ingredients when you’re ready.  I heard that one of the hunting party had a hard time hunting down the meat today.”

“Uhh, I was thinking of making something else,” The Pie Maker spoke, “I was thinking of making a fruit pie for dessert.”

“Fruit?”

“Yeah, fruit,” Ned smiled nervously, “but if that’s not possible, maybe I can whip out a vegetable pie.”

“You eat…plants?” Grenish slowly spoke, trying not to let everyone realize the quivering creeping in his voice.

“Yeah, I eat plants.  I think you should try it, too.”

Narrator: At that very moment, Ned noticed that everyone in the kitchen stood still and stared at him silently.  The only sound in that kitchen was the sound of Gor-yu dropping his cleaver.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT THE MIDDAY MEAL WILL BE GREATLY DELAYED?!” a hologram face boomed at Kah-bo in his office later that day.

Kah-bo looked at his other video monitor, grimaced a bit, then went back to the hologram, “the worst case is, we’ll have to shut down the mess hall and cancel all the meals tonight until further notice.”

“THE HIGH COMMAND AND THE SUPREME COUNCIL WILL NOT BE VERY PLEASED WHEN I TELL THEM THIS, KAH-BO!” The Imperial Minister roared, “WHAT HAPPENED?!”

“It was because of that newcomer, Minister,” Kah-bo finally divulged.

“Ronan the Accuser? What has he done?”

Kah-bo quickly gave him the account of the events that happened earlier. 

“Dear gods,” were the only words the Minister could mutter as small beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

Chapter Text

Narrator: A billion years ago in planet Hala, aside from the Kree race, there existed another race called the Cotati.  Unlike the Kree who looked like blue skinned humanoids, the Cotati looked more like plants.  Because of this great difference and the ensuing wars that followed, the Cotati left Hala and scattered to other planets to thrive. 

The Kree people still remember the Cotati as they are mentioned in the Kree Manual containing the list of adversaries that a Kree might encounter during active military service outside Hala.

But despite their, at best, frosty relationship, the Kree never considered consuming a Cotati.  And to hear The Pie Maker tell them that his diet consists of eating plant species is considered, well…for the lack of exact words in Kree language, an act of cannibalism and something that is highly disturbing even for the most battle hardened Kree like The Accuser.

“How long has he been in the toilet?” Emerson asked Olive while muffled noises of someone puking coming from The Pie Hole’s staff toilet can be heard in the background.

“About an hour now, I guess,” Olive shrugged her shoulders.  “All I just said is, we serve fruit pies here, sometimes we serve homity pie, if someone ordered in advance.”

Emerson shifted his weight as he digested this information.

“When Blue Boy comes out, ask him if he doesn’t mind accompanying me tomorrow at the mortuary.”

At that very moment, the very pale blue skinned Kree came out of the toilet room. 

“Feeling better?” Emerson asked him.

The Accuser, seeing from the corner of his eye a piece of strawberry fruit, let out a gagging sound and ran back inside the toilet room once more.

“I’ll let him know,” Olive turned to Emerson.

Narrator: While the sounds of stomachs violently emptying their contents are emanating from two different parts of the universe, the Guardians decided to travel to a nexus at the heart of the multiverse. 

“I somehow knew that you’ll be paying me a visit,” said the sole inhabitant there, known as Uatu, the Watcher who have sworn to observe the numerous events of the multiverse without interference.

“Great, at least, you can’t accuse us of showing up uninvited,” Quill replied, “we need some answers.”

“It’s that Infinity Stone’s doing,” The Watcher replied.  “Originally, the energy blast from it was meant to completely destroy Ronan.”

“Then what happened?” Gamora asked.

“It seemed that the Infinity Stone did manage to destroy Ronan,” Uatu scratched his chin, “it just decided to send an alternate version of him to an alternate version of Earth after getting in touch with an object there, forged agreement with it, and well…the rest is history.”

“Can you see if Ronan is out there killing the humans?” Quill suddenly feeling worried, wondering if anyone on Earth knows that Ronan was there.

“Actually, what you destroyed is the evil version of him,” Uatu spoke, turning his stare to a screen that appeared over his right side and yet, the Guardians couldn’t see what it was showing.  “This other version of him that was on this version of Earth is well, not necessarily a nice guy, but at least, this one believes in bringing the wrongdoers back to justice.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Quill asked.

“Well, what you can do is…calm the fuck down.”

“Hey, who taught you to talk like that?” Quill responded with irritation for nobody spoke to him like that.  The Star Lord believes that he alone is cool enough to talk like that.

“Listen, if your job description entails watching through several multiverses,” replied, Uatu, “you gotta keep yourself up to date with the latest terms of expression.” Then a wide grin spread across his face.

“Unfortunately, there’s this Earthling in Ronan’s place and we took him to Hala,” Gamora added.  “I’m just afraid that if he doesn’t get out of there soon, he might not survive long.”

“Actually, he’s surviving perfectly well,” The Watcher tilted his head towards his screen once more.  “It’s actually the opposite that’s happening.”

“How is it possible that both of them are able to survive?”, Rocket asked, “aren’t the Kree supposed to use some sort of breathing gadgets to survive on Earth? And same with the Earthlings on Hala?”

Narrator: The facts are these:

As the wormhole is carrying a version of Ronan through space, the very same wormhole is also carrying Ned but in an opposite direction.  Somewhere in the middle, both beings collided and exchanged biochemical compositions thus allowing Ned to thrive in Hala’s Nitrogen-heavy atmosphere and Ronan at the predominantly Oxygen atmosphere of the Earth.

“But it’s not so obvious because they still look the same on the outside,” concluded Uatu, “although Ronan is not as physically strong as he used to, this Earthling, this Ned, he seems to still have his power with him.”

“What power?” asked Drax, the brawny, grey-skinned Guardian.

“I’m not sure,” the Watcher frowned, “I’ve not seen this kind of power before.  Anyway, you’ll find out.  This seems to be a little play all just for, what they call on Earth,” gesturing finger quotes with both hands, “shits and giggles between the Infinity Stone and whatever sentient object on Earth that it got in touch with.  When the opportunity arises and it needs your assistance, you’ll easily know.”

With that, Uatu, The Watcher, left them as he retreated to his private chamber.

Chapter Text

Narrator: Back on Earth, The Accuser decided to join Emerson Cod on his usual trip to the mortuary.  He thought that it would be better for his gastric system to be outside The Pie Hole.  Olive, with her known efficiency, has decided to take over the pie baking duties and managing The Pie Hole’s operations.  Despite not having Ned with them, Chuck still decided to tag along.

“My usual associate has gone on holiday,” Emerson explained to the Coroner as he handed him his usual small roll of dollar bills.

Still, the Coroner looked unimpressed.

“This is his cousin,” Emerson followed it up while looking at Ronan, “and he’s a detective as well.”

“Hmmm…” was the response from the Coroner.

Although unsure of what help The Accuser could do with his latest case, Emerson pulled out one of the mortuary freezers and exposed a corpse, still covered in white cloth.

“Now, I don’t know what you could do about this,” Emerson began as he pulled back the white sheet, “victim is Esther Mullins, a vagrant, found dead on the pavement in front of an abandoned building which is apparently where she lives.  Reported to have sleepwalked to her death but some of friends say that it wasn’t the case.”

“What is sleepwalk?” Ronan asked.

“It’s a medical condition where someone can get out of bed and walk even in the state of deep sleep,” Chuck explained.

“Is that a common occurrence?”

“Yes,” she replied.

Narrator: Normally, with The Pie Maker’s assistance, this scenario would entail The Pie Maker touching the corpse, bringing it back to life and within 60 seconds, Emerson would extract important information from the once again alive person before Ned touches it again, to be dead for good.

 “In one of the planets that I travelled to when I first began in the military service,” Ronan began as he began to walk, hovering over the corpse’s head, “they have plenty of these vagrants, these are usually useless members of their society.”

Emerson and Chuck looked at each other, digesting this piece of information.

“But this corpse, this one does not strike me as useless.” The Accuser continued.

“What do you mean?” Chuck asked.

“I notice that her fingers are rough looking, those are more like the hands of a craftsman and not a useless being,” Pointing out at the corpse’s hand.  “And what is this purple stain on her fingers?”

All three stared down at Ronan’s findings.  From afar, it looked like part of the discolouration of the corpse’s skin but upon close inspection…

“Looks like paint,” Emerson noted.

“And judging from the freshness of the paint,” The Accuser once again continued, “this corpse is working on a project.  How long has she been living in that building?”

Emerson opened the file containing the little information he gathered from the deceased’s friends.

“5 years.”

The Accuser quietly calculated its equivalent in Kree time in his head before continuing.

“And if one lives on such premises for a long time and if her associates are also aware of her condition, perhaps, she would have known how to keep herself safe from hazard risks.”

“Damn, Blue Boy is quite good,” Emerson whispered to Chuck.

Ronan walked towards the wall, slowly gathering the pieces of information they have gathered so far in his head.  “And are there any indications of what she was working on in her possession?” he asked crossing his arms and looking over his shoulder.

Emerson leafed through the pages of the file.

“Well, I be damned…they found none!”

“Then I believe, this is a case of theft,” The Accuser concluded as he turned to face them, “as well as possible murder.”

Chapter Text

Narrator: Previously on Guardian of the Pie Crust…

The Guardians of the Galaxy went to Uatu, the Watcher, after realising that they handed over The Pie Maker to the Kree authorities.

Uatu told them to calm down and comforted them that they will know when their help is needed.

Back on Earth, The Accuser surprised Emerson Cod and Chuck with his knack for detection.

Meanwhile in Hala, finally overcoming the shock of discovering The Pie Maker’s diet, Ned and the rest of the kitchen staff, led by Kah-bo reached a compromised.  The Pie Maker would still make pies although he would only make the Kree equivalent of the Water Pie*.  He was also given his own baking section with a solid wall partition separating him from the rest of the kitchen staff just in case he decides to suddenly follow his “cannibalistic” urges.

Kah-bo, after assessing that the rest of the Kree kitchen staff are relatively safe from The Pie Maker, announced the opening of the Grand Mess Hall ready for dinner.  And because Grenish and Cronk’s heated arguments are brewing once again and are itching to take it out in the mess hall.

In keeping with the Kree military precision, dinner is finally served at the expected time to the long waiting line of customers. 

As per custom, main meals were consumed and public hunger is satisfied first and Kree beer and Sakaaran rum was served before the first of the few arguments broke out. 

“Ha-ha, yess…” Cronk and Grenish grinned in unison as they throw away their vestments while walking out of the kitchen.  This was the moment that they’ve been waiting for.

Ned watched from the small kitchen window as the mess hall erupted into a massive brawl.  He was glad that he’s safe from his position…until he felt a hand slap on his shoulder.

“Ronan, you gotta do something!” said Washyu, “you’re used to this scenario, I heard.”

“N-no, I don’t,” stammered Ned, “I mean, I’m still recovering from my injuries, you see.  And I think that Kah-bo won’t like it if I join.” but then overlooking Washyu’s shoulder, there stood Kah-bo looking at him directly as if expecting for him to do the opposite.

Before The Pie Maker could say something, he was quickly grabbed by Washyu and Mopyu and knowing that he will soon be pushed out into the fray, he quickly grabbed his rolling pin and one of his pie pans.

Despite his protests, Ned was finally pushed out of the kitchen and into the mess hall that is, at that very moment, living up to its name Grand Mess.

“Oh no,” Ned could only mutter nervously. 

Suddenly, at the corner of his eye, he saw a movement.  He turned to see a Kree, in full armour gear, walking—no, more like running towards him.  And its looks do not indicate of someone who is happy to see him. 

Ned was horrified when the Kree suddenly jumped towards him but before it could land on him, The Pie Maker decided in the name of self-preservation and self-defense to swing his rolling pin with all his might.  The rolling pin struck the Kree, partly distorted its blue face, and sent the attacker flying off crashing on the other side of the hall.

“Three cheers to The Accuser!” yelled Cronk who saw what happened despite having three pink skinned Kree police force members trying to pin him down.

“Hip hip hooray!” answered Grenish, who had a blue skinned cadet headlocked in his arms.

Ned momentarily smiled and decided to join the fray, whacking everyone in his path effortlessly with his rolling pin and smacking a few with the pie pan in his other hand.

A few minutes later, the rest of the kitchen staff, even Kah-bo, decided to come out of the kitchen and into the mess hall and join the brawl as well.

As this is all happening, a pair of very bright blue eyes are locking their sights on The Pie Maker while quietly drinking his Kree beer.

Chapter Text

Narrator: While The Pie Maker is cordially serving the Kree brand of hospitality in The Grand Mess Hall, back on Earth: As it turns out, the deceased, Esther Mullins, is not just known to the vagrants in her area.  A few have pointed out that Esther is a regular attendee at the yearly Comic Book Convention in Papen County. 

“A Comic Book Convention?” The Accuser asked.

“Basically, these people loved these so much” Emerson explained showing a sample of a comic book to Ronan, “that they go to this gathering, some to sell the comic books they made, some to buy them comics, and a few dressed up as their favourite characters.”

Narrator: In his mind, Emerson Cod is wondering whether the greater cosmos is conspiring with or against him because the Comic Book Convention in Papen County is the very same Comic Book Convention that he was earlier called upon to investigate due to a spate of death threats sent to a few participants.

“Is this part of a mating ritual?” Ronan asked.

“Aww, hell no! This the last place you wanna go to if you want some loving action,” the private investigator laughed out loud much to The Accuser’s annoyance before realising that Ronan was indeed serious.

Emerson composed himself before continuing.

“You may have a point, though, because it seemed that our victim, Miss Mullins is said to be very close with somebody amongst these participants.  Just who, is not known even to her vagrant friends because Miss Dead Vagrant’s lips are just as tight on that matter when she was live now that she’s joined the great beyond.  But there are a few people who know her very well in the past.” 

Narrator: Then the investigator began to drop the names of potential suspects:

Jerry Garling, a comic book artist, known for his popular superhero comics however, ten years ago, decided to disappear from public eye.  This would be the first time that he will be seen and introducing his new character, The Boombastic Man.  Rumour has it that Jerry decided to disappear after a break-up with a long term relationship. 

Chris Shaw, Jerry’s ex-collaborator, will be at the Convention to present the latest instalment of Master Croydon Swordsman, a character that he and Jerry Garling used to work on before Jerry left years ago.  Apparently, the fans were getting restless and some self-proclaimed purist fans deemed that Chris’ spin on the character is getting worse in quality compared with the one when Jerry was still onboard.

“Here’s a kicker,” Emerson relayed, “our victim went to art college with both Shaw and Garling and all three were very close friends.”

“And now, Esther Mullins is dead, Garling briefly back from a long exile, and this Shaw is no longer associates with him.  Strange, indeed.” Ronan remarked.

“Another suspect is the new kid on the block, the flamboyant Eric Banes and his Mr. Machine Man.  He used to be a fan of Jerry and Chris and was previously the Vice-President of the Master Croydon Swordsman fan club before he was kicked out unceremoniously for unspecified reasons.  Now, his popular creation is known as a big rival of the Master Croydon Swordsman in terms of fan base size and comic book sales.” 

“How is he on our suspect’s list?”

“He used to be Esther’s boyfriend a few years ago before the relationship went wrong ending up with him kicking her out of their apartment, and she’s been living as a vagrant since.  Esther’s friends are also convinced of a rumour that he based one of the female characters on her.”

Three suspects, one potential guilty party, The Accuser thought, this should be easy.  But then again, he thought, there lies the danger of hubris when encountering something that looked so easy.

“Anyway, the rest of the attendees are fans of different comic books, the largest group are those are into the Sky Larks,” Emerson continued.

“Sky Larks?” The Accuser asked.

It was Chuck’s turn to supply the details. “It’s about this space and time travelling spaceship crew made of people who look like penguins.  That’s why they need the spaceship because they’re flightless birds.  Fans of the Sky Larks are known to attend the event dressed up like penguins with space suits.”

“Now who would think that a dumb idea of space penguins would be that popular to spawn a tv series, a documentary, a reality show, and now a new movie franchise?” interjected Emerson.

Narrator: The Accuser could only stare as Emerson continued to babble his personal opinion about Sky Larks.  While most of his information about the Earthlings are based on what is on the mandatory Kree Manual, it didn’t occur to him that there is more to these Earthlings and their strange civilization. 

“Now, because these Comic Book people are a rather tight-knit homies, it’s best to go undercover to infiltrate them.” Ronan heard Emerson continue.  “So, our cover is, we’ll be part of them space penguin folk.” Before showing a photo of a Sky Lark fan dressed like a penguin complete with an orange beak and wearing a silvery jacket.

Narrator: Now, The Accuser has gone to several reconnaissance missions during his tenure in the military, some so dangerous, he barely came back alive.  To a seasoned soldier like The Accuser, however, there are limits.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! I WILL NEVER WEAR SUCH A RIDICULOUS THING!”

Emerson turned to Chuck, “And I thought that Pie Boy is only being sissy.” Before turning back to Ronan.  “Are you sure?”

“NO! NEVER! I’D RATHER DIE DRESSED LIKE A SHI’AR* THAN…THAN…LOOK LIKE THAT ABOMINATION! IN FACT, I’D RATHER BE DEAD THAN TO LOOK EVEN REMOTELY LIKE A SHI’AR!”

“You’re right,” Chuck began, “you don’t have to.  I have an idea…”

The Accuser and The Private Investigator leaned down to her conspiratorially.

Chapter Text

Narrator: Back in Hala, at The Grand Mess Hall, with the evening meal, as expected, ending with a big brawl, depending on one’s view if this is a sign of a good evening or not*. 

This time, though, it ended with one of the Detainers breaking his nose, apparently after getting hit by a kitchen implement.

As Washyu and Mopyu are busy clearing out the debris accumulated in the mess hall, Ned and the others were marching back to their designated sleeping quarters, The Pie Maker saw a figure approaching him from the corner of his eye, he turned to face the figure and saw a blue skinned Kree as tall as him, but this one is bald with piercing sky blue eyes.

“I’m pleased to see you back, Ronan,” the Kree spoke.

“I-I’m afraid that my injuries have knocked out most of my memories,” The Pie Maker replied, “can you remind me again who you are?”

“It is, I, Korath-Thak,” the Kree replied folding his right arm and placing a fist over his other shoulder, “I, too, was injured in the previous skirmish.  Thankfully, I was restored to full capacity by the most advanced Kree technology, but as a consequence, like you, most of my memory of the previous events have been wiped out as well.”

“I know, it’s silly, right?” Ned laughed nervously, trying to be a cheerful, “but then again, I suppose, it’s good because I-I’d rather not remember how I got knocked about.  It might give me nightmares, you know. Hahaha…” then realised that Korath is giving him a strange look.

“Yes, there is logic in that, yes,” the Kree reluctantly agreed.  In his mind, he had to.  He’s worked with Ronan the Accuser for ages and knows what The Accuser can do when something—or someone—doesn’t agree with him.

Narrator: Unlike Ronan who came from military aristocracy, Korath-Thak came from much humbler beginnings, but his brilliant mind earned him a place in the best scientific training school in the Kree empire eventually becoming a cyber-geneticist and helped create Cybernetic Pursuer members for the Kree police force before eventually deciding to leave the confines of his laboratory and become a Pursuer himself.  As a Pursuer, he worked side by side with The Accuser.  Together, they became a formidable team within the Kree Empire tackling crimes.

Ned looked around the mess hall, feeling slightly embarrassed by the aftermath of the brawl.  “I’m sorry that the mess hall is well…messy, it’s embarrassing to welcome visitors.”

“It is not the mess that I care about, Ronan,” Korath spoke, “now that I know you are here.  I would like to ask for your assistance.”

“My assistance?”

“Since returning to Hala, I have been asked to investigate a certain case.  I have used whatever technical means to obtain further information and yet…the answer remains elusive.  Then I remember your expertise as an investigator.”

The Pie Maker remained still.  Here he is, in another alien planet, on assumed identity.  And yet, still couldn’t get away from doing detective work.

“How would you like to investigate this case with me?” He heard Korath-Thak say.

Seeing that he had no choice, The Pie Maker nodded in acceptance.  Korath extended his right hand and Ned automatically took it.

“Good, now we begin,” the Kree spoke as he pressed a few buttons on his wrist.

“Wait, where—AAAAAH!” Before The Pie Maker could finish his sentence, he and Korath suddenly vanished into thin air.

Chapter Text

While The Pie Maker is being teleported somewhere in Hala by Korath, several questions that sprung out since this fan fiction began have inspired a few conspiracies.  Therefore, it is my role as the Narrator to give some details:

Fact number one: Despite Ronan retaining his blue skin tone, nobody in the Pie Hole batted an eyelash.  That is because at the edge of North Thrush, still within Papen County, there live a brilliant, retired general physician, Dr. Joseph Joseph who inherited his blue skin from his father, John Joseph Joseph, a notable Chemistry professor who taught at the Longborough Boarding School for Boys long before young Ned’s arrival.  Rumour has it that John Joseph Joseph’s relations are mostly from the Appalachian Mountains*.  Therefore, any blue skinned individual in Papen County is automatically assumed as a relation of Dr. Joseph Joseph.

Fact number two: Conversely, no one in Hala batted an eyelash at The Pie Maker despite his, obviously, Earthly appearance and all still assume that he is The Accuser.  Mainly because the chances of a Kree getting hit by the Infinity Stone is not common and anyone who gets struck by it AND LIVE is entirely a very rare incident.  Besides, the scientists of the Kree empire seemed to be more interested in other scientific matters not involving getting hit by a powerful stone.

Fact number three: The fearsome Kree Bloodhounds are used in the Kree police force to hunt down fugitives and those trying to escape from military conscription.  It was said that the only ones who have seen what a Kree Bloodhound looks like are either those who have been captured and mauled by it and the members of the Kree police who had the misfortune to see one up close.  Whatever the case, there is an unspoken saying within the Empire that the Kree Bloodhounds are like the brawls in The Grand Mess Hall: You didn’t see, hear or know anything about it.

Chapter Text

Narrator: About twenty million light years away from Earth, at age 40 years, 11 months, 8 days, 10 hours, 4 minutes and 16 seconds of age, an equivalent to a primary school aged child on Earth, a young Kree boy was dropped off to the school grounds of the Retribution Gardens by his father in order to begin his mandatory military training.

“And once I return from the battle, I expect to see you perform well with your training,” the boy heard his father say. “And then, we shall celebrate.”

“Yes, father.  I will make you proud.”

“Good.” A small smile spread across his father’s face.  “Farewell, Ronan.” 

Unfortunately for the boy, war was unkind enough to deny the fulfilment of his father’s promise to return.  But young Ronan decided that, despite this, he will keep his end of the bargain despite the sadness that have secretly lingered his whole life.

Back in recent times on Earth, the quartet—comprising of Emerson Cod, the Investigator; Ronan the Accuser; Charlotte ‘Chuck’ Charles; and Olive Snook—decided to visit the crime scene: the derelict building where Esther Mullins used to live.  It used to be a large paint factory in its heyday before the company shut down and closed the factory.

Esther’s remaining vagrant friends led the group to where Esther’s room was.  The victim’s room is now considerably bare as most of her possessions were confiscated by the police.

“I asked if I could keep one of her drawings just to remember her by,” said the scruffy man with some missing teeth, “she’s very good with it, but the police refused to give them to me.”

The man’s statement confirmed Ronan’s suspicion that Esther Mullins was indeed an artist and not just an ordinary vagrant.

“Why? What are they going to do with them?” Chuck asked.

“They said that a family member claimed them.”

“A parent?” Emerson asked.

“No, I think it’s the sister.  Sometimes, we see her coming over visiting Esther.  Ross, I heard, her name was,” the vagrant replied.

Ronan observed the whole bare room.  It was fairly large with two large windows illuminating the whole room.  He touched the window frame, traced the frame with his finger and sniffed his finger as if trying to pick any scent. 

“And this sister,” Ronan began as he turned around, “I take it that she and your friend seem to be on good terms.”

“Well, yeah…mostly,” the man answered.  “Sometimes, we can hear them arguing and raising their voices at each other.”

“What they arguin’ about?” Emerson asked.

“Something about a guy called Allan.  That Allan should be doing this, and Allan should be doing that.”

All four looked at each other.

“Do you know who this Allan is they’re referring to?” Ronan asked.

“Beats me,” the man shrugged, “I’ve not known anyone with that name visiting Esther.”

“Maybe it’s a boyfriend.” Chuck suggested.

“And they’re sharing the same man,” Olive added, “oohh, this is interesting!”

“I don’t know,” the man answered, shaking his head, “I hope you find out who did this to her.”

“Aside from this sister, have you seen anyone else visiting Esther?” The Accuser continued as he paced to the other side of the room until he reached a metal door barred by a metal bolt. 

“There’s one, a redhead guy,” the man replied staring into the right upper corner of his eye, “I mean, he’s not a visitor really because he’s just standing outside her door.  He’s done it several times, but she wouldn’t let him in until…”

The quartet stared at him.

“Oh God,” the man finally spoke as terror crept on his face, “he was the last one who saw Esther before she died!”

Narrator: More than 20 million light years away, somewhere in Hala.  Ned was surprised when he and Korath teleported to a white coloured room bare of any furniture.  In the middle of the room is a slab.  Ned swallowed as he noticed that on the slab is a corpse covered in white cloud matter.

“My apologies for taking you away from the mess hall, Ronan,” Korath began, “but I cannot stop thinking about this case.  I thought I would ask you to see the case for yourself.”  Then, Korath lifted a finger and immediately a hologram keyboard appeared.  He pressed a few keys and afterwards, the cloud dispersed exposing the corpse.  It was a blue skinned male Kree, about 7 foot in height and well-built.  In the middle of his chest was a small puncture.

“This is Krom-Agnon, affiliated with the Procurement branch of the Kree Empire.  His job entails him with the business dealings regarding supplies from Hala to the satellite military stations of the Empire.  As you can see, the sign of death is that small puncture on the center of his chest and exited through the back.”

“What’s so strange about this?”

“The weapon is missing.  It wasn’t caused by a laser hit.”

“How do you know?” The Pie Maker asked.

“If it was a laser, there would have been burn marks on the skin surface and internal organs, so obviously; it was something tangible.  Whatever it was, we couldn’t find it.  We have looked everywhere in the crime scene, and looked into his possessions and we found none.”

“And you want me to give this a second look?” Ned asked, trying to not to panic.  Here we go again, he thought.

“Precisely, major evidence is missing and, in my experience, only you have the eyes for the details.  Details that we’re obviously missing.”

Ned looked at Korath then set his eyes on the dead Kree.  He was having second thoughts on whether it’s worth keeping his power secret anymore.  Perhaps, he can trust Korath with the secret.  He slowly reached over, ready to touch the corpse…

“Well, hello Ronan!” a female voice startled him, causing him to pull his hand back in and face the direction where the voice belonged.  “I am very happy to finally see you again!”

The Pie Maker’s eyes nearly popped out of its sockets when he saw Olive.  Or more like a blue skinned version of Olive.

Chapter Text

Narrator: As Ned is stunned to meet a Kree version of Olive Snook, back on Earth, Emerson, Ronan, Olive and Chuck attended the Comic Book Convention.  As expected, comic book fans came in hordes from Papen County as well the surrounding areas.

“Now I thought that I know how folks love them comic book, but this is like marrying their comic book and forming orgies without the bumpin’ uglies,” Emerson remarked as he, Ronan, Chuck, and Olive arrived at the entrance of the auditorium. 

Chuck and Olive are wearing costumes of a typical Sky Lark space crew, silver jacket, penguin costume, and an orange beak.

Ronan is wearing a costume that is quite similar in structure and form to his Kree clothing, although this one has green outline, made of fake leather and spandex, and far lighter from the vestments that he used to wear.  The character that he chose to go undercover for, is Lord Lormak, an obscure character in the Sky Larks (‘Space Penguins!’ Emerson snorted) universe.  Chuck explained to him Lord Lormak’s backstory as a character who started as an antagonist before changing his ways and ended up helping the Sky Larks escape.

Emerson, however, stood by his decision not to wear any costume and kept his usual plainclothes.  To his annoyance, he kept getting mistaken by the costumed attendees as the gruff boss character of a field photographer turned superhero.

As the quartet are walking through the different booths, Emerson told Ronan about the report of death threats against the participants of the convention.

“That was what I initially got called for before Miss Mullins’ death.”

“And who are these threats directed to?” Ronan asked.

“No one in particular,” Emerson answered, “some artist’s booths get randomly vandalised, and some death threats get spray painted on the walls., warning people that something bad will happen to them if they keep comin’ here.”

“And yet, the perpetrator was not caught?”

“Bingo! Ain’t nobody got caught…yet.  The organizer people also didn’t wanna add security guards ‘cos they don’t want these participants go panicking if they see more guards than you can shake a stick at.”

“Why would people shake their sticks in the first place?” Ronan asked.

“Well, what I mean about that…”Emerson began, trying to find ways to explain when suddenly….

“Look at that!” Olive pointed out.

All four stared at to where she was pointing, at the wall, there was a promotional poster of The Master Croydon Swordsman with a small picture of Chris Shaw with his name and title, creator, underneath it.  There was a red X mark over Shaw’s face along with the writing, YOU WILL BE DEAD.

Narrator: Back in Korath’s forensic laboratory in Hala, The Pie Maker was dumbfounded to meet a blue skinned Kree who bears heavy resemblance to Olive Snook.  Only, this Kree woman is as tall as him, has sky blue irises like Korath, and wears a similar colour of uniform as Korath.

“Uh…hi?” Ned could only muster, turning to stare at Korath with a confused and awkward look.

Korath, picking up Ned’s discomfort, immediately spoke.

“My apologies, Ronan, this is Mira-Bel, your deputy Accuser.  Her assistance has proven very valuable to us in our cases in the past.  Mira-bel, pardon his amnesia, as you can see…”

“They say that no one who gets hit by the Infinity Stone survives,” Mira-bel spoke, “and yet, here you are.  It’s good to see you back again, Ronan.” A smile spreading on her face.  Ned felt uncomfortable as he was sure that this Kree woman is trying to flirt with him.

“Yes, considering that he looks…unsightly now,” added another female voice.  Ned, Korath, and Mira-bel turned to see another blue-skinned woman who had just entered.  Once again, Ned’s jaw nearly hit the floor as this time, the second Kree woman looked like Chuck.

“Oh, you got to be kidding me,” The Pie Maker muttered.

Chapter Text

“Hello, Ronan,” the Kree Chuck look-alike spoke with a faint smile on her face, “How necessary to see you.” Although her smile indicated that she’s not really happy to see him and she spoke with a sneering tone.  While Chuck’s eyes were hazel-coloured, her Kree counterpart have yellow irises.

“Uhhh, Ronan, this is Una-Rogg*” Korath began, “Una, I’m afraid that—”

“I’ve heard all about it,” Una-Rogg replied as she approached them, Ned noticing how she walks with swagger, “word on every street in Kree-Lar is how Ronan the Accuser lost his memory after miraculously surviving getting hit by the Infinity Stone.  Too bad you’re looking…less Kree.” giving out a disgusted look as she stared at The Pie Maker from head to foot.

 Ned looked to see Mira-bel looking unamused.

“Hello Una,” Mira-bel asked with a mischievous look forming on her lips, “how’s your father**? Still on the run from the law after backstabbing a few of his colleagues and doing shady dealings?”

“You keep my father’s name out of your filthy mouth, you little slut!” Una-Rogg growled, quickly pulling out a sword and brandishing it threateningly.  Mira-bel seemed to have anticipated this reaction for she also quickly drew out an equally threatening-looking sword and pointed it at the other woman.

Korath and Ned quickly intervened.  Each woman decided to put down their swords, but the exchange of dagger stares remain.

“So, Una,” said Ned trying to sound diplomatic, “What brings you here?”

“I just happen to have the unfortunate job as one of your Corps’ informers,” Una replied with a peevish tone, “and for whatever reason, maybe for the amusement of the Grand Council and the Accuser Corps, I was sent here to work for your team.”

“That…,” The Pie Maker began, trying to hide the quivering of his voice while taking a fleeing look at the nasty-looking sword that Una is still clutching, “that would be…nice.”

Narrator: Una-Rogg, who is used to the stubborn, strong-willed, no-nonsense nature of the Real Ronan the Accuser, was slightly taken aback by The Pie Maker’s gentler reaction.  She was expecting him to be easily wound up just by the sight of her.  But it seemed that she failed to get the reaction that she’s looking for. 

Is this really the effect of getting hit by the Infinity Stone? she thought. 

In short, what the fuck?

“If you need me,” she began as she turned her back to them and was making her way to the door, “you just know where to get hold of me.”

“Definitely, Una,” Mira-bel cooed, “I’ll give you a call as soon as we need help.” Followed by a mischievous smile.

Una exited the room, trying to hide the gritting of her teeth.  Bitch, she swore under her breath.

Once Una is gone from the room, Ned quickly looked at Korath, who suddenly decided to busy himself with the computer hologram.

“Korath?”

“Hmmm…?” The Pursuer replied trying to distract his mind away from the drama that had just occurred. 

“Who is Una-Rogg? Why does it look like she hates me?”

“I’m afraid that I don’t indulge myself in the private affairs of my colleagues.” 

“Oh, come on, Korath, you know about Ronan and Una as much as everybody else in the Empire!” Mira-bel spoke, lightly slapping him on the shoulder.

Korath looked at Ned and, seeing that The Pie Maker is expecting answers, sighed.  Perhaps, he could never slink away from answering this question and still believing that he’s standing in front of his Accuser associate, and knowing Ronan’s renowned ability as an investigator finally gave in.  “You and Una-Rogg used to be a couple.”

“Used to?”

Narrator: The facts are these:

Before joining the Accuser Corps, Ronan met Una-Rogg at one of the matchmaking functions organized by Kree government in one of its efforts to bolster Kree population growth.  Una-Rogg, a daughter of a highly decorated Captain of the Kree Imperial Army and herself a highly sought after bachelorette by the Kree male population; and Ronan, an heir of an aristocratic family with an impressive record both as a student at the Retribution Gardens and during his military conscription years.  It was an instant attraction the moment they laid eyes on each other. Unbeknownst to the would-be Accuser, Una-Rogg have a terrible secret. 

In the Kree empire, it is common practice to perform surgery on any woman born with a psychic ability lest they use it to psychically influence men and drain their life force.  But Una’s father, seeing how his daughter’s power will be useful to his quest to rise further in power, pulled a few strings in order for her to avoid going through the procedure.  One night, during one of their—ahem—trysts, Una’s psychic powers emerged and nearly drained The Accuser’s life force although he managed to survive, only just.

“One minute, you’re the Alpha couple of the Kree Empire, the next thing we knew, you dumped her,” Mira-bel added, "I understand that landing a role in the Accuser Corps means a lot to you, so I guess that takes priority.”

“I suppose, having no personal attachments also helps us stay focused and objective in our role,” Korath agreed.

“Una might say that she wasn’t affected by your breakup,” Mira-bel continued, “but everyone can see that she’s still smarting from it that’s why she’s spreading ugly rumours that you have a small...” slightly gesturing with her pinkie finger.

Narrator: While Ned is slowly discovering about a possibly brewing Kree office drama, back on Earth at the Comic Book Convention,

“Seems like somebody wants you dead,” Emerson Cod spoke as he slammed down the poster on a desk in front of Chris Shaw, “any reasons why?”

Emerson and Ronan were at the tent of Chris Shaw, who was said to be one of Esther Mullin’s friends at the art college along with Jerry Garling.  Olive and Chuck decided to investigate around the periphery of where they found the vandalized poster.

Shaw, a lanky man with short blond hair matched with an equally blond-ish goatee, studied the vandalised poster with serious look. 

“I…I don’t know, to be honest,” he began, “I mean, it might just be a prank.”

“Do you think that it has something to do with your friend, Esther Mullin’s death?” The Accuser asked.

“First of all, although I am shocked to hear the news of her death, Esther and I aren’t really friends,” Chris replied then he hesitated, “well…actually, we’re more like college classmates who got on well but after graduation, we kinda drifted apart.  You know, like people usually do.”

“So where does Jerry Garling come in to this,” Emerson said while gesturing finger quotes, “ ‘trio of college classmates who got on well’ thing?”

Chris sighed.  “Jerry is the one that I consider a friend.  We hit it off right away after meeting at Art College because we’re comic book fans and we decided to collaborate on our own comic book character.  Esther’s just someone who hung around in the background and she seemed to be closer with Jerry.”

“When you say, ‘hung around’,” The Accuser ventured, “what does that entail?”

“I mean like, while Jerry and I are brainstorming about the next adventures for our Master Croydon Swordsman, Esther would sometimes come in and check in on us.  She does this most of the time, like the rest of our circle of friends.”

“And she’s done this for quite some time?”

“Yeah, quite a lot.”

Emerson and Ronan stared at each other, each with a raised eyebrow, as if telepathically saying to the other, And yet she’s not a friend?

Chapter Text

Narrator: While the private investigator and The Accuser are busy quizzing Chris Shaw, creator of the Master Croydon Swordsman, Chuck and Olive decided to wander around the area where they found the poster. 

It was located at the opposite side of the convention hall away from Chris Shaw’s tent.  They were frustrated after realizing that are several possible directions that the perpetrator who vandalized the poster could have come in.  As they are heading back to Chris Shaw’s tent to join Emerson and Ronan, they bumped against a man.

“Hey watch it!” He growled as he grumpily continued to walk away.

Chuck and Olive were about to go their way when they both stopped and turned.  The man has red hair and is heading towards the tent of an artist called Allan Roe.

Narrator: Back in Hala, more information arose regarding the murder victim.

“There are usually sentry cameras roaming the halls for security,” Mira-bel spoke, “and yet, for some reason, the victim deactivated ALL the sentry cameras in the Procurement department.”

“That is indeed strange,” Korath replied scratching his chin. “It’s like he doesn’t want anyone to see what he is doing.”

“Or maybe, he doesn’t want anyone to see anyone else coming in or out,” Ned suggested.  They all looked on the hologram screen and the estimated time of the victim’s death.  “Do people work such long hours on Hala?”

“Not unless you work in the essential services such as the medical, air defense, and land sentry.”

“So, what is this member of the Procurement department doing at that time?” Ned pondered. 

Further investigation also made them realize that although all the sentry cameras were deactivated, one camera outside the building was not. 

“Look!” Korath called as they all saw in the dimness of the street, a blue-skinned figure was seen leaving the building. 

“He must have entered the other way otherwise, we would have seen him coming in,” Korath said as they continued to replay the footage forwards and backwards.  “But then again, we have a technology that can recognize an individual even from the back.”

“And yet, we couldn’t identify him, that’s strange.” Mira-bel frowned while she types on the hologram keyboard as all three continue to watch the clip.

“Impossible! Every Kree has an identifiable mark at the back of their heads which ties to their file on our database!”  Korath shook his head.

“Unless…” Ned started, “unless…he’s not…a Kree?”

Korath and Mira-bel looked at each other.

“By gods, Ronan, you could be right!” Mira-bel exclaimed.

“I will pull out the recent list of entries through the Hala airspace,” Korath said as he vigorously typed on his hologram computer.  “I somehow have a hunch…”

Narrator: Several light years away, on the other side of the Andromeda Galaxy, Peter Quill was busy gyrating to the music blasting through his Walkman.  It took him a few minutes to realize that the caller-ID on his communicator tablet is flashing.

He quickly accepted the call.

“Hey Yondu, what’s up?” He flashed a smile as he took off his Walkman and placed it on the table, but to his surprise, Yondu did not return his enthusiastic greeting.

“Quill, you gotta help me, boy,” Yondu said while anxiously looking over his shoulders.

“What about Kraglin and the other Ravagers?”

“They can’t help me now and I’m not sure that they won’t hand me over if they see me,” Yondu sounded desperate.  “You’re the only one I can trust, boy.”

“Woah, what did you do?”

“Quill, I got into some serious trouble when I was in Hala,” Yondu answered, “and you know those Kree, they won’t stop until they find me and when they find me, I’m as good as dead.”

Peter Quill stared at the screen with blank expression as he digests the seriousness of the situation. 

“Okay Yondu, tell me what happened.”

“I can’t stay here much longer, Quill,” Yondu replied, “the Kree government would be sending the Accuser Corps to my whereabouts any minute now.  I gotta go, if you need to see me, go ask Uatu, the Watcher.  He’ll let you know where I am.”

Quill nodded solemnly.

“And Quill?”

“Yeah?”

“Please be quick.”

Chapter Text

Narrator: As Quill is hurrying his way back to Uatu, back on Earth, Chuck and Olive relayed the information about the red-haired man to Emerson Cod and Ronan the Accuser.

On their way to the place where the redheaded man went, they were passing by a group of attendees in various costumes.

A few costumed men started speaking, or rather, making hisses or sounds that can be describe as someone trying to clear one’s throat.

“Caught something in your throat, kid?” Emerson asked them.  The group just giggled as they continued to make sound.

“I think they’re speaking the language of the Hak-thruans,” Chuck spoke. “They’re the alien species encountered by the Sky Larks several times.”

“Sounds like they need to take some cough syrup,” Emerson answered, clearly unimpressed and visibly annoyed.  If only he was allowed to arrest them for making such dreadful noises, he grumbled to himself.

Olive and Chuck, leading the group, clung together, followed by Emerson and Ronan.

One costumed attendee moved closer to Olive and Chuck and made a series of hisses, gasps, and throat-clearing sounds in front of them.  The rest of the costumed attendees suddenly burst into laughter and hoots.

The Accuser, near the end of his patience, quickly grabbed the attendee and holding him close face to face, hurled a series of hisses and more vicious throat-clearing sounds into the attendee’s face before throwing him back to his friends, who have suddenly gone quiet.

“Hey man, you don’t have to say that to me! Jesus!” the costumed attendee spoke to Ronan after recovering from his brief shock.

“What did you tell him?” Olive asked wide-eyed to Ronan.

“Nothing important,” The Accuser replied casually as they continue their journey, “I just told him that’s not the way to talk to women.”

“How did you managed to know that language?” Emerson asked curiously.

“It’s oddly very similar to the Badoon* language.  It’s a very boring and primitive language, if you ask me.”

Finally, the group arrived outside the tent of the artist, Allan Roe. 

“Bing bong, the postman has arrived with a message,” Emerson spoke as he led the group inside the tent.

“Hello, how can I help you?” the person who was sat on a swivel chair turned to face them.

“Who are you?” Chuck asked. 

For although this person has red hair, this wasn’t the man that she and Chuck bumped into.

Narrator: Meanwhile, back in Korath’s laboratory in Hala…

“You are right, Ronan,” Korath began, “the reason why we could not identify this fugitive is because he’s not a Kree.”

“Uhh, really?” Ned answered, still incredulous that somehow, his intuition got something right.

“Yes, because it seems that this unidentified person is possibly a Centaurian.”

“I’ve managed to pull out from our database that a group of Ravagers entered Hala the other night,” Mira-bel added as she showed the information on the hologram screen, “and their leader is a blue-skinned Centaurian called Yondu Udonta.”

“Ravagers?” Ned asked.

“They are basically a group of mercenaries acting to do anything and everything at anyone’s bidding,” Korath answered.  “And somehow, it is highly probable that Krom-Agnon has used the services of the Ravagers—whatever it is—and afterwards, this Centaurian, this Yondu Udonta, must have killed him.”

“I have now relayed the message to the Minister and waiting for his reply.” Mira-bel informed them.

“Well done as always, Mira-bel!” Korath beamed before turning to Ned, “and when the order arrives, your role officially begins.” 

“M-my role?” Ned tried to hide his growing anxiety. 

As if by magic, a large hammer shaped weapon appeared before him.

“That is your Universal Weapon**,” Korath gestured towards the hammer.  “You can take hold of it now as I’m pretty sure that the Minister and the higher ups only have to make a formal declaration of you as an Accuser.”

Despite his initial hesitation, Ned took hold of the Universal Weapon.  Despite its obvious solid composition, it felt light like his rolling pin.

“Err…what do I do with this again?” Ned asked Korath.

“That is your symbol as an Accuser.  When we find Yondu Udonta, you’ll be the one to judge and execute him right there and then.”

Chapter Text

Narrator: As information and developments of the murder case and the name of main suspect, Yondu Udonta, arrive at the ears of the Kree Imperial Minister and the Grand Council, a few light years away, Peter Quill aka Star Lord arrives at the residence of Uatu the Watcher.

“I knew you’d be back, Quill,” Uatu beamed as he welcomed him.

“You said that we’ll know when we’re gonna be needed to jump into this situation,” Quill started.

“Yes, I did,” said Uatu.

“But you didn’t tell me that Yondu will be in trouble!”

“Yeah, Quill, that’s why I told you to calm the fuck down first, didn’t I?”

“So, what does Yondu have to do with Ned in Hala?”

“At this moment as we speak, the Kree government is set to formally assign Ned as the Accuser to Yondu’s case.”

“Meaning?”

“Your friend Ned will be the one to judge, be the jury, and could execute Yondu when he finds him.”

Narrator: Millions of light years away, back on Earth.  Although it was a bit dim inside the tent, Olive and Chuck are still surprised to see that the red-haired man that they saw going towards the tent of comic book artist, Allan Roe, was not the same man currently sitting on the chair in the middle of the tent.

“You’re Allan Roe?” Emerson asked.

“Yes, that’s me.” Allan Roe, sitting on a swivel chair, is sporting a thick beard in the same shade as his red hair.  He was wearing an oversized checkered flannel jacket over an oversized black jacket paired with baggy, brown cargo pants.

“We’re here investigating the death of a certain Esther Mullins.  Apparently, she’s known as a regular attendee in this convention.” Emerson continued.

“Yes, I heard of the news of her death.  It’s very sad but what does it have to do with me?”

“It’s just that before she died, Esther and her sister were heard discussing about someone called Allan,” Chuck answered, “and we thought that it’s you they’re talking about.”

“I don’t know, miss,” Allan answered sounding quite unsure, “I just keep myself to myself.  For all I know, they could be talking about someone else.”

“Are you in any way not associated to an Esther Mullins, then?” Ronan asked, watching as Allan Roe shifted slightly in his seat before answering.

“Let me just say that Esther Mullins is known to the local comic book circle of creators like me but not to the comic book community in general,” Roe began, “and it’s sad that she passed away with her talent underappreciated.”

“Do you think so?” The Accuser continued as he began pacing slowly at a small part of the tent. “Shame that she died as all her friends claim how immensely talented she was as a comic book artist.”

“I—I—yes,” there was a slight falter in Roe’s voice.  “I admit that a female comic book artist is not as greatly appreciated as her male counterparts.  Sadly, that’s what the comic book industry has been like.”

“Gosh, that’s very sad thing to hear,” Olive interjected.  “Imagine being so good and so passionate about something but nobody wanted to look at it just because of who you are.  And now, she’s dead, she’ll never be known.  Poor Esther!”

“YES! EXACTLY! I HOPE YOU FINALLY CATCH THE BASTARD WHO DID THIS TO HER!” Roe exclaimed, anger rising from his voice.  He stopped and calmed down when he noticed that Emerson, Ronan, Chuck, and Olive are staring at him.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Emerson started calmly as he began to make his way to the exit, “my team and I will get to the bottom of this.”

“Thank you,” Roe replied meekly.

After leaving the tent, the group decided to head back towards The Pie Hole.

“I can’t believe that Allan Roe is not the guy we saw,” Chuck began.

“It could have been another fan,” Emerson suggested. “Anyway, I don’t have much information about this guy.  Do you know anything about him?”

“From what I saw, it seemed that he’s an up and coming comic book artist,” Chuck answered. 

Ronan, mostly quiet the whole time they are walking, walked behind Olive and sniffed.

“That’s a very distinct smell you have, Olive Snook,” he spoke.

“Ooh, you like it?” Olive giggled, obviously tickled by the compliment.  “It’s this nice perfume I occasionally use.  I like it very subtle because it doesn’t overpower the smell of the pies in The Pie Hole.”

“Yes, it’s very subtle indeed.”

Narrator: A few million light years away, The Pie Maker felt like he hit a brick wall upon learning what he had to do once the order comes through.

“D-do I really have to do that?”

“Of course! That’s what Accusers do.” Mira-bel answered with a smile. “And I believe that it’s a very convenient and less bureaucratic way of delivering justice.  Don’t you think, Korath?”

“If only there’s less bureaucracy with how they deal with our department budget as well,” Korath said with a tinge of annoyance.

“But what if I don’t want to accuse him?” Ned turned to them.

Korath and Mira-bel looked at each other before turning to look at The Pie Maker.  Both taken aback and a bit worried.

“I’m afraid that you’ll be severely punished for obstructing justice, Ronan.” Korath answered gravely.

“Severely punished like—?” The Pie Maker asked as he looked at them.

“Meaning, you’ll be sentenced to death,” Mira-bel answered in a straightforward way.

Chapter Text

Narrator: With Uatu the Watcher’s help, Peter Quill aka Star Lord managed to find Yondu’s hiding place at the very hostile and barren region of the Negative Zone. 

“You sure that nobody followed you here?” Yondu asked Quill as he closed the door behind him.

“Yes, I did,” Quill answered before passing him a small packet containing some booze and a small troll doll.  Yondu opened the packet and smiled upon seeing the things that Quill brought him.

“I thought I’d bring you something to cheer you up,” Quill smiled. “Your new apartment surely needs some decorating.”

Yondu found a hiding place in small portion of a cave.  The hiding place is bare of anything with only a small bonfire illuminating the whole cave.

“Thanks, boy,” Yondu smiled sadly, “you’re the only I can trust now.”

“Now, tell me what happened,” Quill told him as they sat down by the fire.

Yondu let out a deep sigh before he began.

Narrator: Meanwhile, back at The Pie Hole on Earth.  The group decided to close the shop from customers and decided to convene at the dining table facing the kitchen.

“Why would Allan Roe react about bringing Edith Mullin’s killer to justice if he claims that he doesn’t know her?” Chuck mused.

“Could it be that he’s the red-haired man that Edith’s friend claimed to have seen on the night she was last seen alive?” Olive added.

“Tell you what, people,” Emerson added, “I have never heard of this Allan Roe until today.  Imma gonna get my sources to snoop around him.”

Then the trio realised that Ronan wasn’t with them.

“Now, where he gone to?” Emerson looked around.

“Do you think he went to the toilet?” Chuck offered.

All of a sudden, Ronan walks in from the kitchen and surprised them.

“Oh, hell boy, you better not be pulling disappearing acts at us like that!” Emerson exclaimed.

“I have just used the telephone from the outside,” Ronan replied. “I was trying to track down Rosalie Mullins.”

Just then, Allan Roe walked in through the front door of The Pie Hole.

“I just got a phone call to come to this place,” he started, “I was told that there is an important information that I need to know.”

To everyone’s surprise, Ronan placed one of his muscular arms over Roe’s shoulder and turned him to face the others. “I greatly appreciated your compliance, Allan Roe.”

Then The Accuser spoke triumphantly, “My dear friends, I present to you, Rosalie Mullins, the sister.”

Chapter Text

Narrator: It seemed that time stood still at The Pie Hole as everyone froze at Ronan’s declaration.

“What the hell—?” Emerson began as he recovered from his shock.

“How—” Allan Roe asked turning to face Ronan.  But The Accuser just slightly smiled and raised his eyebrows at Roe in a taunting manner.

Allan Roe sighed.  “Okay, you won.”  To everyone’s further surprise, Roe took off his beard and wig, finally revealing the face of a short-haired woman.

“Are you really—?” Chuck finally asked as Rosalie sat down with them.

“Yes, I’m Rosalie, Edith’s sister.”

“Well, I be damned,” Emerson spoke as he turned to Ronan, “how did you do it?”

“When we were at Esther Mullin’s room, I inspected the windowsill and smelled something that I am not familiar with, being that I’m—” he stopped as he was about to say that he’s not from Earth and decided to change his explanation, “I am yet to understand its significance.  It wasn’t until we were inside Allan Roe’s tent when I stood near Allan—or Rosalie—that I smelled that scent again.  Somehow, I wondered if Roe was the redhaired man that Esther Mullin’s friends mentioned who was there frequently until…” he looked at Olive.  “Until I smelled Olive’s perfume.”

“You mean, Rosalie and I wore the same perfume?”

“Precisely,” answered The Accuser.

“Have you got a bloodhound smell, bro?” Emerson asked, “because I’m sure as hell didn’t smell nothing.”

“Like I said to Olive, her perfume is very subtle.”  Then The Accuser’s face turned very serious as he turned to Rosalie.

“Rosalie Mullins, you have the opportunity to confess your crime or—”

“I didn’t kill Esther, if that’s what you’re going to accuse me of,” Rosalie replied looking at Ronan straight in the eyes.  “If anything, I am on the quest to look for her killer as well.” With that, she turned to look at the others.

Narrator: A few million light years away, back in Hala, Korath teleported The Pie Maker back to his sleeping quarter at the back of the Grand Mess Hall.

“Now that the Minister has officiated you back to the Accuser Corps, you can start packing your things and leave by tomorrow,” Korath told him.

“Yes, I will,” Ned answered, still unsure how he’s going to do well with going after a fugitive alien despite clutching the Universal Weapon in one hand, “thanks Korath.” Then turned to make his way to the back entrance of the Grand Mess Hall.

As he turned to a corner, an unfamiliar hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him to a darkened corner.

Before Ned could scream, a hand covered his mouth.

“Shhh! It’s me.” A voice whispered to him but out of fright, Ned dropped the Universal Weapon on his would-be assailant’s foot.

“OH YOU—FU—ARRRRGH!!” The other man quickly let go of The Pie Maker and let out a few expletives while hopping on one foot and nursing the other.

It was then that Ned realized that the voice belonged to Peter Quill, the Star Lord.

“Oh, it’s you,” Ned spoke, “what are you doing here?” picking up the Universal Weapon and still couldn’t believe that something that feels so light on his hand can inflict such pain.

“Fuck, dude! Why do you have to do that?! Arrrgh!” Quill continued while interlacing his words with a few unprintable words. “I’m just here to tell you that I need your help.”

“You know about Yondu Udonta?”

Finally recovering from his foot injury, Quill’s shoulders dropped as he sighed.  “Yeah, he’s the one who raised me.  But it’s not only because he raised me that I’m trying to help him but because I believe that he’s innocent.”

“How do you know that he didn’t do anything? There’s a video camera that showed him leaving the crime scene.”

“Like I said, I know Yondu and the Ravagers enough to know that this isn’t part of their modus operandi.”

Still seeing that The Pie Maker remains unconvinced, Quill continued.  “Yondu told me that the dead Kree, Krom-Agnon, paid them to smuggle a few lumber from the planet Stent to Hala so Krom-Agnon could overcharge the budget department and pocket the rest.  Now, why would Yondu kill the guy if they can continue doing the deal and make money?”

“I don’t know, maybe Krom-Agnon double-crossed them?”

“That’s why I need your help,” Quill spoke, “because I believe that somebody had set up Yondu and you’re my insider.”

“But—”

“You’re officially an Accuser now, Ned.  The fate of an innocent being is in your hands.”

As this conversation continues, unbeknownst to the two, a pair of yellow irises are secretly watching them from a distance.

Chapter Text

Narrator: In the planet Hala, news of the murder of Krom-Agnon of the Procurement department was broadcasted into the public.  News also entailed that Ronan the Accuser will be leading the team to track down Yondu Udonta and bring him to justice.  The public is then advised to bring forward any information related to the case…unless they want The Accuser to bring it out of them through more aggressive* means.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Allan Roe, was revealed to be Rosalie, the victim Esther Mullin’s sister, in disguise.

“What made you go all shady when we started asking you questions?” Emerson asked.

“Because I didn’t know at first that it was her friends who asked for your help and also, I don’t want anyone to know that I’m doing some investigating myself,” Rosalie answered. “She and I didn’t spoke for years until a several months ago because she told me that she’s just recovering from a mental breakdown and was living as a vagrant.  Her dying like this is painful for me because we started collaborating and I’m just starting to get to know her after all these years.”

“Have you two not gotten along before?” Ronan asked.

“Esther is 8 years older than me and treats me more like a little sister so we didn’t really have a good sister bond when we were growing up, but I’ve always looked up to her of how great she was as an artist, so I decided to follow her footsteps as well.  About a year ago, we bumped into each other by chance and when I told her that I really wanted to become an artist like her, she was very supportive, but she warned me that it’s hard to crack into the comic book community as a woman.  When she offered to become my mentor, I was very grateful and that’s when we started our collaboration under the name of Allan Roe, the comic book artist.”

“Do you know any of her college buddies?” Emerson asked.

“Yeah, she would mention them on the letters that she would sometimes send to our parents.  It seems that she considers Jerry Garling and Chris Shaw as her best friends in college.”

“So, it was during her time in art college that they created the Master Croydon Swordsman character?” Emerson asked.

“Yeah, although Jerry and Chris may have the best storyline ideas and money, it was my sister who created the look of the Master Croydon Swordsman.  He was her baby.”

“So, if the Master Croydon Swordsman is your sister’s creation? How come her name doesn’t appear in any of the comics?” Chuck asked.

“As talented my sister was, she’s also extremely modest and shy around people.  She’s just happy to know that people liked her character, and she wanted to keep it that way.  But somehow, I can’t shake the suspicion on Jerry and Chris.”

“With her creation going big time, I doubt that her homies were giving her money considering she died a vagrant,” Emerson observed.

“That’s what this disguise is for, I want to investigate her death without rousing any suspicion,” Rosalie replied, “the last time I spoke to her, she said that Chris Shaw was helping her recover from her mental health problems.  But later, she said that it was Jerry Garling.”

“Did Eric Banes make any effort to help her at all?” Ronan asked.

“No, he didn’t, he’ll never lift a finger to help her at all,” Rosalie shook her head. “Not after a rumour about Esther surfaced when they were together.  That’s why they broke up.”

“What rumour?” Ronan urged her to elaborate.

“That she’s already married to somebody else.”

Narrator: Back in Hala, while Ned is trying to figure out how to help Yondu and Peter Quill without letting Korath and Mira-bel know, somewhere in Kree-Lar,

“It is now official, Supremor,” the Imperial Minister said to a large, disembodied head floating within its fluid filled glass case.  “Ronan is now officially designated back to his role as an Accuser.

“Excellent, let him begin,” said the Supremor, otherwise known as the Supreme Intelligence, a demigod being created by all of Kree’s most intelligent minds.  It is also said that the Supreme Intelligence also retained the sick sense of humour from one of the Kree intellectuals that it absorbed, but no one is brave enough to confirm this.

Narrator: What the Supremor didn’t tell the Imperial Minister is that it knows who Ned really is.  It sent an order to the Accuser Corps headquarters, specifically to Ned’s group, to head off to the Negative Zone.  Not just to try apprehending Yondu but to also see if The Pie Maker will pass the test that the Supreme Intelligence has secretly set him up for.  And if it would admit to itself, the Supreme Intelligence is orchestrating things out of spite against the Infinity Stone and the Earth sentient being for leaving it out of their scheme.

Chapter Text

Narrator: Once, at the Longborough School for Boys, a spate of thefts disrupted the otherwise, quiet life of the students living there.  Pens, jackets, notebooks, and even PE t-shirts start to disappear.  Soon, rumours started to swirl amongst the students that a certain Ingmar Todd was the responsible for the thefts.  Although Ingmar is adamant that he is isn’t the thief, the student body started ostracizing him from playground games, school group projects, and even his roommates petitioned him to be moved to the janitor’s quarters for fear of losing their belongings to his “sticky fingers”.  Normally, young Ned would ignore Ingmar as they were not really friends, and certainly not after he lost his chocolates to Ingmar after a game of cards. 

It wasn’t until one day, when Ned found that Digby went missing from the storage trunk in his room that he decided to take some action. 

To cut the story short, young Ned managed to capture the real culprit, Eugene Mulchandani, who only did it out of boredom and homesickness. 

Eugene, for his part, was contrite and returned the stolen items to their respective owners on the sole promise from Ned not to tell his parents what he’s done and in exchange, that Eugene would never reveal to the teachers that Digby the dog is taking residence in Ned’s room. 

With the items returned, Ingmar was soon returned to the fold of student life and in return, he rewarded Ned by replacing the chocolates that he took from him. 

Back in recent times on Earth…

“Are you telling us that Esther was married? None of my sources told me about that,” Emerson said with confusion.

“Well, it’s only just a rumour that I heard,” Rosalie said, “I asked Esther one time but even she wasn’t sure about it.”

“How come she couldn’t tell you?” Olive asked.

“That’s another mystery about my sister that I wanted to find out,” Rosalie said, “I tried asking her about it but she said that something like that happened a long time ago but she was so drunk at that time that she couldn’t exactly remember the details.”

“Hypothetically, if she did get married, it must have been before she met Eric,” Chuck added, “how did he learn about this rumour?”

“Papen County’s community of comic book creators are rather tight knit.  Everybody knows everybody, it seems.  So, it’s through this that Eric heard the rumour about Esther’s marriage.  But even if we’re a tight knit group, no one knows who she’s married to.”

“Speaking of Eric Banes,” Ronan spoke, “how was his relationship with your sister?”

“If you ask me, personally, I don’t think that he’s a nice person.”

“Has she mentioned before what their relationship was like?” Ronan implored her more.

“She said that he has a terrible temper and more obsessed with his creation than making their relationship work.”

“If he had such terrible temper,” Ronan continued, “do you think he’s capable of reacting… in a violent manner?”

Rosalie stared at him.  “Are you thinking that he might have something to do with Esther’s death?”

Narrator: Back in Hala, realizing that sleep is evading him, The Pie Maker decided to do some preparation for his role as an Accuser.  Not that he wanted to execute Yondu but hoping that somehow, there might be a certain law that he can use.

“You could have waited until the following day, Ronan,” said Korath as he installed a few wires on the round halo over Ned’s head.

“I thought that I might as well, uh, brush on the Kree laws just to make sure that I’m updated on any new laws,” was The Pie Maker’s reply.

“That’s what I like about working with you, my brother,” Korath spoke then hesitated and briefly glanced at Ned, “What I mean to say is, I greatly admire your work ethic.  I sometimes wish that the rest of the Accusers do the same.”

Ned just smiled.  But that smile was instantly wiped out when Korath turned on the contraption and suddenly, bursts of energy were generated by the halo and made its way into The Pie Maker’s brain.

Narrator: While this was happening in Hala, somewhere in the Universe, there is a place called Knowhere, which used to be the skull of a giant Celestial.  A place known to space travellers as the galactic equivalent of Las Vegas with no laws and with wall to wall collection of gambling halls and dive bars.  While most of the Guardians—Rocket, Groot, Gamora, and Drax—are busy gambling away their rewards from their latest bounty hunting, Peter Quill is quietly downing his Sakaaran beer.  It’s not as good as the ones from Ghi-ness but since it’s cheap, a booze is still a booze.

“Mind if I join you?” a female voice spoke. 

Quill turned and despite his drunkenness, this alien babe is eye catching with barely any clothing covering her voluptuous body.

“Sure you can, baby,” he said as he asked the Rigellian bartender to get her order.  She asked for the same beer.

“Not as good as Ghi-ness but I like the stinging aftertaste,” she said after taking a large gulp from her mug.

“Woah, I’ve never seen anyone take big lugs off that,” Quill noted, incredibly impressed with this alien’s bravado.

“I like my men like my beer,” she spoke as she moved seductively closer to him, “strong, sharp, and very bad for me.”

Quill smiled as he took another swig of his drink.  The effect of booze must be getting to him as he leaned in to kiss the blue skinned girl who is secretly using her psychic powers on him.

Chapter Text

Narrator: Back on Earth, The Pie Hole gang and Ronan decided to split up so they can interrogate Jerry Garling and Eric Banes at the same time. 

Ronan and Olive opted to interrogate Eric Banes while Emerson and Chuck were to ask Jerry Garling. 

Ronan and Olive went to Eric Banes’ mansion.  To their surprise, or not, it’s located in a very upscale part of Papen County where the upper crust take residence, something very much in keeping with Banes’ flamboyant reputation.

“Welcome to the inner sanctum!” Banes haughtily greeted them as they were ushered in by Banes’ butler.  Olive and Ronan momentarily exchanged glances then went on to observe the plush and audacious decorations of the mansion.

“I don’t usually accept fans in my main powerhouse of creativity,” he continued as he motioned them to sit on a very plush and expensive-looking sofa.   “But still, I owe everything here to you, guys.” Motioning to the whole place.

Narrator: Secretively, Ronan is greatly repulsed by this excessive display of privilege.  He had been to royal courts in numerous galaxies and have interacted with royal families from different planets but this place, he finds it to be lacking the air of dignified decorum and…what was that word that describes it best on Planet C-53*? Tacky.

“Shall I offer you tea, coffee, wine?” Banes snapped his fingers in quick succession to his valet who brought in different drinks.  “Although I actually prefer Beaujolais.” The butler quickly poured the wine into a glass and handed it over to Banes.

“No, thank you,” Olive responded politely with a smile.  “I just hope that we’re not bothering you?”

“Like I said, I owe this privilege to my fans,” Banes smiled as he eased himself to a very plush armchair.  “So, what brings two of my most ardent fans here?”

“I believe you’ve heard about the tragic passing of your ex-lover, Esther Mullins?” Ronan started.

They noticed Banes’ misdemeanor change.

“Oh...yeah,” he responded in a more somber mood. “I was hoping to put my past relationship behind me.”

“It must be hard to hear that someone you loved die so suddenly,” Olive suggested.

“Pah! That bitch got what she deserved!” was Banes’ response with a tone of bitterness.  “I love her, man, but how can you love someone if you don’t actually know who they really are?”

Ronan raised his eyebrows as he turned his head to meet Olive’s dumbfounded look.

As Emerson and Chuck are making their way to Jerry Garling’s apartment…

“Do you think he’s got any idea who Esther got married to?” Chuck asked Emerson.

“Dunno, why you asking?”

“Do you remember that Rosalie said that Esther used to refer Jerry and Chris as her college best friends? Surely, you would expect that someone who calls you as their best friend would tell you everything.”

“Listen, I don’t mean to burst your bubble theory,” Emerson began, “but this aint’ the Barbie and Friends show.  You don’t think that a bunch of temperamental artists have that BFF thing with each other like that?”

“But Ned hasn’t kept any secret from us, even you.” Chuck countered in her usual wistful way.

“What’s Ned got to do with this?”

“I just think that if Ned is comfortable enough to tell you things, what more with somebody who refers to two people as her ‘best friends’?”

Narrator: For a moment, they both fell to quiet solidarity, partly because they’re both wondering where and what’s happening to Ned at that moment and partly because, pinned outside Jerry Garling’s apartment door is a poster of Jerry Garling from the convention.  Like Chris Shaw’s poster, this one is also having red X mark over Jerry’s face with a message, ‘YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS.’

Jerry Garling was also the grumpy red-haired man that she and Olive previously bumped into.