While Deathstroke and his group were busy in the Seventeenth Dimension, on a remote planet in the Main Dimension, a tall farmer was working the fields.
He poured the water he had carried into the shallow furrows, then turned and pounded his lower back before taking off his straw hat to fan himself.
Looking up at the scorching starlight, he smiled calmly. He picked up the white towel draped around his neck, wiped the sweat from his face, and prepared to continue working.
A blue uniform had been stretched over a cross to serve as a scarecrow at the edge of the field. The helmet that had once represented his identity hung alone from a wooden pole, serving as the scarecrow's head.
Whenever the wind blew, a mournful whistling sound came from the gaps in the helmet, as though someone were wailing.
Carrying two empty buckets on a shoulder pole, the purple-skinned giant headed toward the reservoir beside his cabin. Then his ears twitched, and he spoke.
"Have you come to kill me?"
"Of course not, Thanos, my old friend. It's me." Little Golden Man appeared at the edge of the field. He lowered his head, watching water seep into the earth, watching grains of soil slowly merge under the unstoppable flow and turn into muddy sludge. "Are you well?"
"I'm very well. Better than ever before." Thanos walked past him with his head lowered. At the reservoir, he washed his hands before tossing the empty buckets into the water. "As you can see, I've found peace here. I've never felt this way before."
The crops in the field had already borne fruit. They were tall plants resembling corn, but their fruits looked like bright red tomatoes.
The Mad Titan was mad no longer. He returned to the edge of