What If... || Avengers: Endgame

Chapter One || "I Went For The Head."

Drax groaned frustrated and put his hands in a fighting stance while looking at Quill, his opponent in paper football. Mantis watched their game with wonder. They were on the Benatar - Quill's ship.

He raised his eyebrows. He expected that he had to let Drax win - he was a very bad loser. "You don't need to do that. Because, uh...you're just holding position." Drax flicked a paper ball at him. He nodded. "Oh, yeah, that was close, " he encouraged. Drax flicked another ball. "That's a goal. We're now one apiece."

Drax looked up at him. "I would like to try again, " he spoke as he flicked a paper ball at his friend.

Quill faintly grinned. "We're tired up. Feel the tension? It's fun."

Mantis laid her hand on Quill's head. "I don't really feel the tension, " she admitted.

Quill rolled his eyes, hoping this wouldn't expose his plan to let his friend win. Drax frowned. "The Spider-kid's gotta eat something, don't you think? Can you make him a sandwich?" Quill asked Mantis. She tinily smiled and walked off. Quill sighed in relief and decided to head back in the game as he poorly flicked his ball at Drax. He shook his head and shrugged. "That was terrible. Now, you have a chance to win." Drax smiled as he made the winning goal. He laughed in victory. "...And you've won. Fair game. Good sport. Have fun?"

Quill reached out his hand to shake Drax's, but he just laughed and pointed at him, mocking. "I don't care! More importantly: I beat you, Quill!" He laughed for a while and then sat down with a juice box.

Quill nodded. "This is exactly why I always play with Groot--" His eyes widened. "Rocket... Groot..." Were they still alive?

Peter Parker's hand reached forward to turn on Tony's busted helmet as he sat on the floor, his bones outlining his skinny body. He tapped it. "This thing on?" The helmet scanned him while he leaned against the wall of the ship, taking a deep breath. He looked weak with malnutrition. "Hey, Aunt May. Miss Potts. And Morgan. If you find this recording: don't post it on social media. It's gonna be a real tear-jerker. I don't know if you're ever going to see these. I don't even know if you're... if you're still..." He sighed. "Oh god, I hope so. Today is day 21, uh 22." Mantis stood behind the corner, frowning, holding a sandwich.

Peter stared out the window, into space, waiting for his impending doom to arrive. "You know, if it wasn't for the existential terror of staring into a void of space, I'd say I'm feeling better today. The infection's run its course, thanks to my new friends over here. You guys would love them. Very practical. Only a tiny bit sadistic. Some fuel cells were cracked during battle, but we figured out a way to reverse the ion charge to buy ourselves about 48 hours of time. But it's now dead in the water. We're 1000 light-years from the nearest 7-11. Oxygen will run out tomorrow. And that'll be it. And Aunt May, I... I know I said no more surprises, but I was really hoping to pull off one last one. But it looks like... Well, you know what it looks like. Don't feel bad about this. I mean, if you grovel for a couple of weeks, and then move on with enormous guilt. I should probably lie down. Please know that... When I drift off, I will think about you. Because I love you. And I always will, " he finished.

With that, Peter turned the helmet off with a shaky hand. He rubbed its left eye and leaned down to what would be his last sleep. "Hi, Peter, " Mantis shyly called. He lifted his head. "You must eat something. I made you a sandwich."

He tinily smiled. "Thanks, Mantis. I really appreciate that, but I'm not hungry, " he told her while shaking his head.

She frowned. "Are you sure? I mean... You almost didn't eat anything in three weeks, " she tried.

He closed his eyes. Due to the starlight, she saw his black bags and sunken cheeks. "I'm sorry, " he sighed. Mantis frowned sadly. Peter heard the sound of her boots' clicking heels fade away. Mantis returned with a blanket. She dragged him over to Drax's seat and covered him with it. She left, dejected.