Chapter 4:

Ash’s Reluctance

The Milano hurtled through the cosmos, its sleek form slicing through the interstellar void. Onboard, Ash Williams sat in the ship’s common area, his chainsaw hand resting on the table. Peter Quill (Star-Lord) and Drax stood nearby, discussing battle strategies. Ash leaned back in his chair oiling the mechanical hand he’d built using medieval materials, the memories flooding back. He’d faced Deadites before—those cursed creatures that twisted reality, possessed the innocent, and hungered for chaos. The Necronomicon, that accursed book, had brought them into his life. And now, here he was, hurtling toward another confrontation. Peter approached, his eyes earnest. “Ash,” he said, “we appreciate your help. The galaxy owes you.” Ash grunted. “Galaxy owes me nothing,” he replied. “I’ve lost friends, lovers, and a damn good hand to those Deadites.” Peter hesitated, then asked, “Ash, why do you sometimes use a wooden hand? It seems… less practical than a chainsaw or that mechanical one.” Ash chuckled, “Well, kid, let’s just say there’s a bit of a… contractual dispute with the universe. You know, the kind that involves lawyers and a lot of paperwork. So, the wooden hand is a bit of a compromise.” He winked at Peter, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “And Why do you keep fighting the deadites?” Peter asked. Ash’s gaze hardened. “Because they don’t stop,” he said. “They multiply, infect, and spread like a cosmic plague. I’ve seen worlds burn because of them.” Of course Ash had never left Earth until now but they didn’t know that. Drax, ever the literal thinker, leaned in. “And yet you agreed to join us.” Ash’s lips twisted. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Because you mentioned the galaxy. Big stakes. And because I’m tired of being alone.” He glanced at his chainsaw hand on the table the crude replacement for the one he’d lost. “But I want what you promised,” he said. “You get me a new chainsaw hand. Sleek, upgraded. None of that jury-rigged crap.” Peter grinned. “Deal,” he said. “We’ll have Rocket work on it.” And so, with Ash’s reluctant acceptance, the Milano hurtled toward the plagued planet. Ash’s weariness weighed on him, but a spark of purpose burned within. He’d fight alongside these misfit Guardians, chainsaw roaring, one-liners flying. Because sometimes, even a weary Deadite Slayer needed a galactic family.

Characters in this Story

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