In Marvel With My Gacha System

Chapter 32: Intergalactic Prankster – Or, "I Just Rickrolled a Kree Warlord. You're Welcome, Galaxy."

The first concrete lead emerged from a distress signal intercepted by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s deep-space listening posts. A small Kree scouting vessel, deep within neutral territory, reported encountering an "unknown, powerful energy signature" consistent with the Tesseract's emanations, followed by an immediate attack from a shadowy, unidentified force. The Kree vessel was now crippled, adrift, and broadcasting an SOS.

' Okay, this is it. First contact with the real cosmic stuff. And probably a precursor to the Space Stone getting lost or found. Time to make an impression. Not with a bang, but with a bizarre, intergalactic Rickroll that will echo through the quadrants for centuries. Because nothing says 'don't mess with Earth' like making your enemy's flagship play cheesy 80s pop. '

Tony, eager to get data on the mysterious energy, dispatched a small, fast-response team: himself, Captain Marvel (who had just returned to Earth and was briefed on the new threat), and, surprisingly, Adam. Captain Marvel was a powerhouse, Tony was a genius, and Adam… well, Adam was unpredictable.

"Alright, Stiels," Tony said as they prepped for hyperspace jump in a sleek Stark-designed ship. "You're here for… moral support? And maybe to make their ships vanish if things go south?"

"More like 'strategic disorientation expert' and 'galactic morale breaker,' Tony," Adam corrected, adjusting his specially designed space suit (which, true to form, had an inexplicable feather boa accessory that he'd added via Structural Grasp). "They want to pick a fight? We'll make them regret ever leaving their home planet by questioning every tactical decision they've ever made. And their taste in music."

They arrived at the coordinates to find the Kree vessel adrift, heavily damaged. But circling it, like vultures, were three larger, sleek ships. Not Kree, not Nova Corps. The design was vaguely familiar to Adam, a precursor to Thanos's forces or a splinter group. As they approached, a hostile transmission blared from the lead ship: a guttural, arrogant voice demanding immediate surrender and the handing over of the "energy artifact" that the Kree vessel possessed.

"They're after something on that Kree ship," Carol Danvers stated, her eyes narrowed. "Looks like we've got company."

"Excellent," Adam muttered. "Time for Operation: Galactic Grooves."

Tony powered up the ship's comms. "Stark here. You boys looking for trouble? 'Cause you just found it."

Adam, however, wasn't waiting for Tony's witty banter. He quickly established a remote connection using his portable interface (which subtly routed through Stark's highly advanced tech, undetected). With JARVIS's remote, sassy guidance, he began hacking into the hostile ships' primary communication and display networks.

"JARVIS," Adam whispered, "time to unleash the cosmic earworm."

"Initiating 'Operation: Never Gonna Give You Up - Interstellar Edition'," JARVIS's voice echoed in Adam's ear-comm. "Calculating optimal frequency modulation for maximum psychological impact across known alien auditory ranges. Recommend immediate visual accompaniment for full effect."

On the lead hostile ship's bridge, the Kree warlord, a towering, armored figure, was mid-rant, bellowing orders. Suddenly, his main viewscreen, which had displayed tactical readouts, flickered. It was replaced by a grainy, low-resolution video of Rick Astley in all his 1980s glory, belting out "Never Gonna Give You Up." The song, however, was subtly auto-tuned to alien vocal ranges, giving it an oddly haunting, yet utterly undeniable, quality.

The warlord froze, his mandibles dropping. His crew stared at the screen, utterly bewildered.

"What is… what is this primitive, yet inexplicably catchy, sonic assault?!" the warlord bellowed, grabbing his head.

On the other two ships, the same phenomenon occurred. Tactical displays turned into Rickrolls. Internal comms crackled with the infectious chorus. Crew members, unable to comprehend, began to inadvertently hum along.

"This is not a recognized weapon!" an alien soldier exclaimed. "It is… illogical! Yet my foot… it wishes to tap!"

Adam, watching from their ship's console, grinned maniacously. "Phase one: complete. Digital demoralization via infectious pop anthem. Now for the visual chaos."

He then utilized his Enhanced Hypnosis (Subtle Mental Suggestion), broadcasting precise mental nudges through the communication channels. He didn't make them fall asleep, but rather subtly influenced their onboard AI and automated systems.

The lead hostile ship, instead of advancing, suddenly executed a perfectly synchronized, inexplicable barrel roll, followed by a series of precise, yet utterly useless, figure-eights. The other two ships, equally affected, began to follow suit, performing bizarre, almost choreographed, aerial maneuvers. They looked like a confused, celestial ballet troupe.

"My ship is… dancing?!" the Kree warlord shrieked, banging his head against his console. "I am not issuing these commands! My navigational systems are… performing interpretive movement!"

Tony, who had been about to engage his repulsors, stared, jaw agape. "Stiels… what in the hell did you do?"

Carol, who usually had a stoic expression, had a single tear of pure amusement rolling down her cheek. "I… I think I just witnessed a tactical space ballet."

"Just a little intergalactic performance art, Tony," Adam said with a shrug, pulling out a bag of (magically conjured) space-themed gummy bears. "It's all about strategic confusion. When your enemy is busy trying to figure out if their ship is possessed by disco demons, they tend to forget about shooting you."

The hostile ships, trapped in their self-inflicted, musically-accompanied aerial dance, became easy targets for Carol to disable their weapons systems without causing major structural damage. They weren't attacked; they were just… made ridiculous.

"We have successfully incapacitated the hostile vessels without lethal force," JARVIS announced, his voice imbued with an almost smug satisfaction. "The Kree warlord is currently experiencing an existential crisis, questioning the very nature of reality. Probability of future engagement: 0.03%. Probability of him developing a lasting affinity for 1980s Earth pop music: 67.8%."

They boarded the Kree vessel, retrieving the small, ancient artifact – a crystalline shard that hummed with a faint, familiar power. Not the Tesseract, but a remnant, a piece that confirmed the existence of greater, older cosmic energies. And they had done it, not with lasers and explosions, but with Rick Astley and cosmic choreography. The Mad Titan wouldn't know what hit him. Or rather, he wouldn't know how he got hit. The galaxy had just met its new intergalactic prankster. And he was just getting started.

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