Author's Note: If interested please read Bio, two small continuity changes that are important to the story are outlined there. Also music features heavily in this chapter and subsequent ones, each time an Awesome Mix Vol. 3 pops up in the text play the corresponding song, all can be found on YouTube, and listen to it while continuing to read the chapter. Oftentimes songs are referenced or take place within the text's narrative so I highly recommend listening to the music. Anyways, enjoy the story!
Chapter 1
A cold moon hangs over the sandy dunes of the planet Azbach, bleaching the desert world with the soft pale light of its neighboring star and bringing to life endless wavy shadows cast from the formless and endless dunes. It brings a sharp and natural contrast that would seem almost beautiful to the eye if there was any life to see it, other than a few nameless crawling things. Extreme temperatures during the day and even more extremes during it's frigid nights makes life on the surface almost impossible and visitation ludicrous. Which is why, to any interested observers, it would seem highly unusual that the planet has suddenly gained a dozen well-armed visitors…
The prospective visitors descend from the loading bay of their ship onto the sandy surface below. One takes a few steps in front of the others, looks around, and then offers the endless sand a spit. "This planet is one hell of a shithole, it's cold enough to freeze mercury and if that sandstorm we saw from orbit is any indication this place will somehow become even worse when the sun rises if we don't get out of here within an hour."
The leader of the band, dressed in formidable blue and black armor, steps down off the ship and gives a withering glare at the speaker "Which is why we're not here on vacation, or to water the sand you dumb idiot" when the man spits at the sand again. "This is business, so I recommend the lot of you fan out and secure the location before our buyer gets here."
All except the spitter fan out and begin moving away from the ship, he however, remains planted. "What's to secure" says the man with another inglorious spit, "ain't nothing living on this planet except for sand and a few rabid animals."
"You got some problem with the plan I've laid out" says the leader, lowering a hand towards his holstered weapon, "because if you do, say your piece, and then maybe I'll make you a permeant attraction of this forsaken planet. Ships will then have a reason to stop by, to gawk at a useless dead idiot." They stand facing off for a few moments, all others in the party standing still to watch the brawl, but it never comes as the spitter shrugs his shoulders and walks away to begin his patrol, muttering under his breath "go observe some sand over here, go observe some sand over there."
The armor-clad leader removes his hand from his weapon and sighs, "goddam mercenaries, can't live with them, can't conduct illegal business without them." He pulls out a data pad and checks the universal clock, "15 minutes eta for the buyer, then I offload the package, make a cool 10 million units, and retire to a planet where sand is just for beaches and the hired help is much more pleasing on the eyes."
Looking over his shoulder into the loading bay of his ship he sees the package still contained in its small box of ornate silver and gold. The box alone must be worth a few hundred thousand units he thinks, and on any other buyer he would have kept it and claimed it was destroyed or lost in the heist, but screwing over this buyer was not a plan for long life expectancy. Besides, he was about to become wealthy, and a few hundred thousand units was not worth his head being rudely detached from his body.
Just as he is beginning to turn away a small black shape, hidden in shadow under the pale moonlight, seems to appear below his ship before quickly ducking away. Just seeing this out of the corner of his eye in the dim light he slowly turns around before walking hesitantly toward the side of his ship before quickly crouching with his gun drawn, prepared to fire. Nothing greets him except the underside of his ship and sand, shadowed in the moonlight. "Stupid, the stakes are making you jumpy" he says to himself before standing up and taking a few steps away. Suddenly stopping and spinning on his heel he dives and lands on his stomach with his gun drawn, but nothing greets him except mocking sand and the underside his well-worn starship. "Yeah, definitely stupid" he says, removing himself from the sand with a shake and returning to the loading bay with a reholstered weapon, and his pride mostly intact.
A few minutes pass until all the mercenaries return with nothing to report, except for as the spitter eloquently puts it, more sand. It is then only a short time after that when the transmission ping of a ship entering orbit reaches his data pad, and he can release a sigh of relief. "Maybe this deal will end up going off without complications, that'll be a first and last for me." He orders the rest of his band to take up defensive positions around the ship, but this doesn't go well. "Defend against what, I thought we were here for a deal not a fight" says the spitter, drawing an irritated look from the leader. "What is this your first job!? I'm really starting to question whether I really need twelve mercs or just eleven." Pinching the bridge of his nose he continues "Look, I don't expect trouble but that's why I have you all here, in case things go south."
"What's south of here?" asks another mercenary, large and imposing, cocking his head confusedly.
"Holy hell! Were you all raised by blunt objects or something? Just stand in a line on either side of the ship, and shoot if I tell you to shoot. Got it?" They all mutter approval and move into two lines next to the ship, except for the one mercenary who continues his vigil looking southwards. He ignores this as his buyer's ship chooses this moment to descend from the atmosphere and land a few hundred meters away, kicking up sand and grit. It is a beautiful ship he notices, clad in black and white with a sleek and elegant design, reminiscent of a predatory animal, but he has little time to take more of it in as promptly after landing three figures descend from the ship, two heavily armed bodyguards and one slender xandarian. They approach as the mercenary leader moves forward to meet them halfway between the two ships.
"Greetings" says the xandarian, bowing slightly in respect, "I hope that all went well with your operation and that our package is ready for delivery. I notice you decided to hire extra help to facilitate in the transfer, this was hardly necessary as we intend no trouble, but I do not begrudge you the extra surety."
"Well I wouldn't call them help, been more of a nuance so far, but I didn't hire them to ensure peaceful transfer as I have no doubt of your master's honest intentions" he says, returning the respectful bow. "I'm more concerned that our meeting is not interrupted by any interested third party, my heist was a big news getter and no doubt there are others searching me out."
"No doubt indeed" says the xandarian, casting a furtive glance around herself "Let us then conduct our business and be finished, all indications are that a sandstorm will soon engulf the area with the rising sun, which cannot be more than 15 minutes away."
"Let it be done then, I shall return to my ship and retrieve the package, shan't be more than a minute" he says, then turning, walks back to his ship. Lifting up the package inside the loading bay he takes one last moment to appreciate the ornate beauty of the object, shame that it will soon be added to some dusty collection he thinks, but then again, that is the sort of place it was when he "acquired" it. Leaving the loading bay, he glances at the mercenaries arrayed around his ship. Most seemed bored, the spitter is thankfully not doing what his namesake implies, and the biggest and most imposing of the bunch is no longer on his vigil facing south. Thinking that if a next time should arise he would spend more time vetting his merc bodyguards for incompetence, he makes his way back to the xandarian and her two bodyguards.
"Here you are milady, one ancient xandarian battle dagger liberated from deep within the vaults of their planetary history museum, still contained within its ceremonial box."
"Open the box please, so I may ensure proper transfer" says the xandarian, leaning in to observe the now opened box. Inside she sees, resting on a bed of strange translucent material just catching the early rays of sunshine, the ancient blade still pristine after a millennium of disuse, with a carved curved handle made almost entirely of a purple gemstone inlaid with ancient runes and symbols of power.
"Magnificent" says the xandarian, eyes wide with wonder and fascination.
"I agree" says the merc thief, now looking into the box with a new sense of reverence, "I haven't any idea about the actual history of the item, except that the security around the object was enough to make me sure it was highly valuable… and very unique."
At these last words, the xandarian's eyes snap up from the dagger to study the thief's face intently for a short moment, before taking a few steps back. "Yes, well I have now ensured that the item in question is indeed the item specified in your contract, I am prepared to transfer payment to your account now."
Awesome Mix Vol. 3: Electric Light Orchestra - Tightrope
Closing the ornate box, he is about to give his approval for the transfer of credits when he notices the faint sounds of some sort of syth music, rising in volume, sending out an eerie tone all around them.
He looks back at the mercenaries, who are all looking around just as confused as he is, some turning almost in circles to determine the source of the mysterious broadcast as the music suddenly crescendos into cymbals. Whipping around, he is about to accuse the buyer of pulling some sort of elaborate musically themed trick, for it'd be just his luck to have this deal go against him set to some sort of strange harmonious tune, as now string instruments are playing as well, but the words catch in his throat as the xandarian is herself looking around with widening eyes.
"I know this, I was warned this might happen" she whispers, almost to herself.
"Then do you mind enlightening me, because I sure as shit don't know what the hell is going on" he says with rising panic in his voice as now some sort of high pitched string instrument is playing.
"Earth music, it's the calling card of a certain terran outlaw, although I thought he had taken up with others for a more reputable business, it seems he will be the third party to our deal."
"Well that's just fantastic" he says, unholstering his weapon, "I guess now we wait for him to reveal himself, or do you have any more useless information!?"
"No, except that he is known for his unorthodox strategies."
"Well this is certainly weird as shit, don't know what it's supposed to accomplish though" he says, as now a chorus of voices are calling out with the music, "actually that is a little perturbing" he adds as an afterthought.
Turning around to face his men he calls out "Alright boys, we have some company but that's why you're all here so no need to be alarmed. Weapons ready, and if anyone or anything shows itself, shoot it, and we'll ask questions later."
Caught between returning to his ship or staying with the xandarian, and all his money, he is interrupted as along with a guitar riff a voice suddenly booms out from what seems to be all around him.
"Attention A-holes, on behalf of… me and my friends, you are hereby required to lower all of your weapons to the ground, or sand area, and return the highly valuable thing to us, so that we may return it to its proper owners, the people that own it."
A few moments follow with nothing more said, until "what Gamora, stop looking at me like that, this is my first time making demands and I wanted to get the wording right… oh and to all of you, you have fifteen seconds to comply, so um, make it quick."
"I don't need fifteen seconds" the merc leader says, moving quickly back towards his ship. "How about you come out from wherever you're hiding and we settle this, because I do not have time to deal with amateurs."
"Hey" comes the voice again, this time sounding hurt, "I may not be a professional like your high and mighty self but I'm defiantly not an amateur, more of a semi-pro, with all of the knowledge and skill but none of the baggage. Although I do have the looks and physique of a, OW!, what was that for, oh right fifteen seconds is up, so I guess we'll just do this your way then, Rocket HIT IT!"
Suddenly, in an area all around his and the buyer's ship, small metallic objects rise out of the ground, unfurling into a wide sunflower shaped head. Before anyone has a chance to react a blinding blue light flashes out of each object and a sudden inversal of gravity lifts each person 10 feet in the air, spinning and twirling with whatever small momentum they had when gravity inverted.
"HA-HAAA! Now how's that for amateur hour!" says the voice, now almost giddy with glee. "Y'all just hold tight for a few, we'll be there soon."
Cursing to himself furiously while he spins in a slow pirouette, the merc leader looks for any sign of his captors when, over a farther dune, comes three figures silhouetted against the early rising sun. One of them is tall and humanoid shaped, wearing a red duster with two blasters attached at either hip. The second is judging by her green skin a Zen-Whoberi, which is probably just an illusion of the light and his constant spinning as there aren't any left of that race after the mad titan wiped them out. And the third is what appears to be a child with some sort of hair growing disease. The last one he decides must definitely be some sort of hallucination. The tall humanoid leads the other two towards him while all he can do is spin fruitlessly while giving the appropriate curse words.
As they approach, the leader calls out hopefully "any of you useless lot FIRE at these assholes!" All that accomplishes is several erratic shots, hitting nothing as all of his mercenaries are floating and spinning just as uselessly as he is.
The tall humanoid stops in front of him as the other two take up positions to the left and right with weapons drawn. Upon closer inspection, his earlier appraisal appears accurate, one is against all odds a Zen-Whoberi, while the other appears to be some sort of furry rodent, carrying an intimidatingly large rifle.
"Well" he says, trying to maintain eye contact while still spinning in the air "do my glorious captors have names or are we to skip those formalities."
The humanoid squares his shoulders and stands up a little straighter, as with a sly grin crossing his lips he says "sure thing, my name is Peter Quill, although you might know me better as… Star-Lord! Savior of the cosmos, hero extraordinaire, and leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy. My two companions are Gamora, trained assassin and all around badass chic," he says, gesturing to the Zen-Whoberi next to him, "and the other is Rocket, weapons expert and engineer, with a crazy talent for making, operating and firing weapons, explosives, and all other means of instant death."
"Great, never heard of you" he says to a dissatisfied sigh from Star-Lord, "now I imagine you're here for my package, well best of luck as you'll only get it out of my cold dead hands!"
"Ew dude, we're not here for your package, wierdo, we're here for the box you stole from the Xandarians, so hand it over so we can get out of here before that sandstorm arrives" says Star-Lord. Gesturing towards Rocket he says "let him down, we're not going to get it from him spinning around like that."
Touching a device strapped to his armor Rocket snickers "sure thing Star-Lordy, anything for our galaxy-renowned leader."
"Hey" intones Peter "he knows who I am, he's just being an asshole about it. Negation tactic and all, I'm cool about it, doesn't matter anyway."
"Sure it doesn't" says Gamora, keeping her weapon trained on the merc leader "just let him down so we can finish this."
The blue field suddenly winks out around him as he falls unceremoniously to the ground, landing in a crumpled heap. Rising slowly to his feet he suddenly draws his weapon and aims it squarely at Star-Lord. "Big mistake, amateur" he says while pulling the trigger, but when answered only by the click of an unfired weapon he pulls the trigger several more times, only to answered by the same disappointing click click.
"So, forgot to mention that, we had one of our own disarm your weapon before you landed. Like I said semi-pro" says Star-Lord with that grin now on his face once more.
"Speaking of that, aren't you forgetting something" says Gamora, gesturing towards the mercenaries still spinning helplessly near the ship.
"Oh crap" says Star-Lord, burying his face in his hands, "Rocket, let Kraglin and Drax down from the stasis fields, they've been hanging long enough and they're probably pretty pissed."
Two more blue lights wink out as the spitter and the tall and imposing merc fall back towards the sand, landing in their respective heaps. Kraglin, the spitter, rises first, "fancy piece of work with the speakers and immobilizers captain, when we separated after coming up with the ambush and you said you'd have something awesome but not too showy set up I didn't think I'd end up almost puking."
"Indeed friend Quill" says Drax, drawing himself up, "that was a most unpleasant sensation. However, there is something more urgent to discuss, this thief seems to believe that something will 'go south' from here and while I have kept looking in that direction, seeing nothing, I believe we should make south our top priority."
"Drax, things going south is an expression for things turning from good to bad" Gamora sighs "the only thing south is that sandstorm, which need I remind everyone is less than 10 minutes away."
"That makes no sense, if south is bad then is north good? What about east and west, are they only acceptable? What about in space when there is no meaningful distinction, does that mean-"
"-Kill me, Kill me now. Or better yet just remove my universal translator, actually no, because then I still wouldn't be able to understand him.
"ALRIGHT Rocket, Drax, Gamora is right. We need to finish this up and get out of here before that sandstorm arrives, I can only imagine what it would do to the Milano's paint job." Quill takes several steps towards the thief, "alright guy, hand over the box and I won't have to stun you in that package you care about so much."
He considers this for a few moments before reluctantly handing it over, muttering "fine, take it, done no good for me anyways."
Peter studies the exterior for a few moments before quickly opening it and closing it again. "Yep it's all there and it looks mighty expensive, so Gamora, I'm handing this over to you, I have a bad history of dropping valuable and dangerous things.
Gamora rolls her eyes but accepts it anyways, storing it under one arm. "Peter, before we leave we should talk to the buyer, find out who they're middle manning for."
"Good thinking Gamora, Kraglin and Drax can stay here and watch over our friend, Rocket and us will go see what the xandarian rotating in stasis knows."
As they approach her she seems to be calm, considering all the unusual circumstances, even calling out to the guardians when they near.
"Guardians of the galaxy, if you will release me from this stasis field I promise I can tell you all you wish to inquire about my master."
"Well that sounds like a pretty good deal" says Peter "but words are just that, how do I know you'll be cooperative once we let you down?"
"Mr. Quill, I am only an emissary and have no desire to harm, now that my mission has obviously failed I am instructed to pass on a message."
"Sounds good, but just know you have two very dangerous people covering you."
"Glad you're not counting yourself as very dangerous" says Rocket, snickering.
"Precisely, I'm ultra-dangerous" says Peter to a huff from Gamora "now let her down Rocket, we need to finish this conversation soon, sandstorm remember?"
The immobilization field disappears around her as she lands with more grace than could be expected. Rising to her feet slowly she gestures to her bodyguards still floating and spinning behind her, telling them not to try anything unless told.
"Now Guardians, my buyer anticipated that you would be assigned to track down the stolen item due to your temporary residence on Xandar and your well renowned ability among their security forces-"
"-Thanks for that by the way" says Peter "finally got a week to relax on a safe planet with nice beaches and a mostly rebuilt downtown and three days into that we get called by Nova Prime to assist on a weeklong job hunting down that asshole over there."
"Peter" chides Gamora "do not tell her more than she needs to know."
"Yeah, we still don't know who she works for" adds Rocket. "Besides, vacation wasn't that nice, you try drying yourself off after swimming in the ocean when you're covered in hair."
"Oh really Rocket, what about that bar we went to on the first night, name translated to Loose Legs I think, we hustled the games tables all night. You even convinced a man that you would do better betting with HIS MONEY than him!"
"Guys" says Gamora, gesturing towards the south and the quickly approaching sandstorm "leave the revelry and whatever happened at that bar till later."
"Right, sorry" says Quill looking sheepishly at Gamora "you said your boss knew we were coming and had something to tell us?"
The xandarian, who had been looking confusedly between them during the exchange, now returns to her diplomatic posture as she says "my master is someone who you have met before on Knowhere, Taneleer Tivan, the Collector."
The three Guardians look at each other in surprise until Gamora says "I'm not surprised that Tivan is interested in this item, it is valuable and unique, but I am surprised that he'd leave a message in this manner for us."
"Yeah, last time we saw him the infinity- or um package that we had brought him detonated inside of his warehouse. Oh, is he mad about that? Tell me he's not mad about that because a man with his fashion sense is not a man to be screwed with."
"Quiet ya idiot" adds Rocket, with a glare at Peter "last time he was willing to offer four billion units so I want to hear the lady out on what she has to say."
"My message is this" says the xandarian as if reading from a prepared script "something was recently stolen from my collection that could cause great damage if released among the denizens of the galaxy. While none of the galactic governments or mercenary groups have the nuance or skill to retrieve this item for me, I believe you may be the most capable of returning this dangerous item back into my protection. With this messenger, I have entrusted a datapad with a detailed description of the item as well as who might have stolen it. I do not ask this of you easily, for I am deeply dissatisfied with your decision to leave the stone with the xandarian government instead of with myself, but I am however forced to ask this of you out of a need to contain this to those I know to be capable of the near impossible."
Several moments of silence follow, with Gamora the first to break the silence.
"Tivan is not a charitable man, why does he care of the effects on the galaxy?
"It does sound interesting, except for the impossible part, but why does he think we can, or will, do this for him?" asks Peter.
"My master is familiar with your accomplishments in the past year" answers the emissary "from the defeat of the rogue Kree accuser Ronan, several successful missions for a variety of galactic governments, and the destruction of the celestial Ego, you have proven yourselves as the upmost independent mercenary team is the galaxy."
At the mention of Ego Peter tenses up and, casting his gaze downwards, receives a worried gaze from Gamora.
"Besides" continues the emissary, "my master wishes to avoid the blowback that would happen if the Xandarian or Kree governments were to learn of his possession of this dangerous item. They tolerate my master's presence because he is very wealthy and mostly remains out of illegal trades and businesses. And although they would never admit it publicly, he also acts occasionally as a third party for the safe keeping of dangerous items that others in power would rather have forgotten or buried. This, however, is a matter that will affect all sentient life in the galaxy, and as it's protectors you have as close to an obligation to act as any."
"Listen lady" says Rocket, pointing a finger at her "I don't wanna hear anything about obligations, we protect the galaxy because we live in it, we're not some altruistic bunch of saps that fling ourselves at each opportunity to die in defense of a galaxy that could give two shits about us. You want to convince me first, start talking units, because all I hear is what you yourself describe as an impossible mission. Not to mention that this is the Collector we're talking about, someone who would most likely turn us into exhibits before we'd even have time to call him an overdressed asshole."
"Rocket, if Tivan is willing to reach out to us like this than we must take him seriously" Gamora says, still looking worriedly at Peter who hasn't reacted except to shift his gaze upwards towards the brightening sky overhead.
"Easy for you to say, you've worked with him before" says Rocket, crossing his arms and looking angrily at Gamora "remember how he wanted to buy Groot's corpse and put it on display like some sort of sick art exhibit, I don't trust this guy and neither should any of you."
Gamora, shifting her gaze from Peter to Rocket, says, with a hardened expression "I'm not saying we trust him, let's just take the intel he has and go from there. The Collector has many dangerous things in his vaults and if he claims one of them is stolen we must treat this with the same seriousness we would treat any other dangerous mission. You understand, right Peter?"
He does not answer, except to continue staring blankly at the sky above. Rocket continues "Nah I say we leave his lackey here with the rest of them and keep on like we ain't never heard from our fur wearing friend. Which brings up another good point, where'd he get that fur from? Probably skinned it off some helpless creature, I say we-
"-We'll look into the job" says Peter finally, meeting the xandarian's gaze.
"You can't be serious" snorts Rocket, "Quill, come on, you know this guy, we can't trust him."
"You're right, we can't trust him" says Peter, earning a startled gaze from Rocket, "but we'll take the information this emissary has for us and look into it while keeping one eye on our backs. Gamora is right about this being serious though, if this guy deals in infinity stones who know what else he might have locked away that in the wrong hands could prove disastrous.
"Come on" says Rocket, looking angrily at Peter, "I thought after Ego you'd think twice about accepting anything from a mysterious stranger."
"Rocket that's ENOUGH" says Gamora loudly as Peter breaks away his gaze to look angrily at the sky. "This is not like Ego, we might not know Tivan's true motives yet but he isn't going to betray us after giving this information freely."
Gamora turns back to the emissary as Rocket sulks angrily, kicking the sand and muttering under his breath.
"We will take whatever information you have available and will deliberate its truthfulness later, is that acceptable to you?" asks Gamora of the emissary.
"It is indeed" she says, holding out a datapad that Gamora receives tentatively. "All the information needed is on here, plus a contact number you can use to reach my master directly if you have further questions."
"How does he know" asks Peter, looking back down at the emissary with a piercing stare, "how does the Collector know about Ego."
"I… do not know. The events that played out amongst hundreds of habitable worlds has been talked about ceaselessly since, but as for how my master knew about the celestial Ego's involvement, he did not share that with me."
Peter does not speak for several moments, only staring intently at the emissary, until finally he turns to Gamora "let's get out of here." Rocket mutters approval at this while Gamora maintains her gaze on Peter, he continues "We'll release the rest of them from stasis when we take off on the Milano, let them ride out the sandstorm and by then we should be far enough away to avoid pursuit or tracking."
"That sounds appropriate" says Gamora, pausing as if to say more before contenting herself with a brief hold of Peter's shoulder. Peter smiles wordlessly at this, before turning to Rocket and asking "that sound ok to you?"
"Yeah whatever," answers Rocket, "I sabotaged his ship while Kraglin was distracting him." "It'd take me about a minute to fix so he'll probably be stuck on this planet for days."
"Good" says Peter, turning back towards the emissary, he continues "tell your master this… we will look at what he's given us and make our decision in the next few days as to whether we'll take the job or not. We need to return to Xandar first with this, but after that he'll hear from us about our decision, deal?"
"Peter Quill, that is more than acceptable, I shall report all that you have said to my master promptly. Thank you for taking this matter up Guardians, I am sure the galaxy will be the better for it!"
"Yeah well, we're 2-0 in stopping galaxy destroyers, I guess adding one more to the win column can't hurt. Come on guys lets go" Peter says, turning his back on the emissary of The Collector and walking back to where Kraglin and Drax are still watching over the thief.
"Friends, did the buyer reveal anything useful? All our captive has done is wine incessantly and even after several threats to remove his head from his body he still persists, it is very irksome." Drax says, lowering a threatening hand on the thief's shoulder.
"She did, but we'll talk about it more on the ship" says Peter "we'll leave the rest of these mercs here for pickup by the xandarians, they won't be going anywhere for a few days anyways."
"Why do you say that?" askes the thief.
"Because I sabotaged your ship idiot" says Rocket smugly, "you won't fry in the heat because I left it operational enough, but if you try and fly anywhere you'll only get as high as a few miles before a nice long plummet back to the ground."
"Fantastic, thanks for keeping the AC running at least" adds the thief despondently.
Awesome Mix Vol. 3: Boston - Feelin' Satisfied
After heading back to the Milano and removing the covering that had kept it undetectable from scanners they lift off the planet's surface and launch into orbit mere moments before the sandstorm overtakes their position, leaving the newly freed mercenaries to flee and cower inside their partly functioning ship. Climbing back down from the cockpit where he had just set their autopilot on course for Xandar Peter calls the rest of the Guardians together for a meeting in the common room.
"First things first congrats on a successful mission everyone, we're on our way back to Xandar now to deliver the stolen goods back to Nova Prime for what should be a substantial reward. Groot, thanks for protecting the ship in case something went wrong and we needed backup, now that you're all grown up, again, it's good to have you backing us up. And Mantis, once we have some actual down time we'll be sure to teach you some combat skills so you can join us on missions."
"It is ok Peter, I am just happy to have true friends who would entrust me with defending them, if I was capable" says Mantis shyly, wringing her gloved hands together.
"It is alright to be ashamed of your failings" says Drax, laying a hand on her shoulder "if you'd like I could teach you how to eviscerate your enemies with a blade, or maybe I could show you how to explode a kree's heart with just a single punch to the chest? Oh yes, the blood spray on that is a sight to behold, I insist you must learn!"
Recoiling, Mantis whimpers a quiet "no thank you" while Drax looks on confusedly. Sighing, Gamora says "Drax we were thinking more along the lines of learning how to operate, fire and maintain a pistol, nothing as bloody or disgusting."
"Can you really explode a kree's heart with one punch?" Asks Rocket amusedly.
"There is nothing disgusting about it, and yes Rocket I have done it to several kree in the past, mostly as a mercy to them as the death is almost instantaneous and it is considered a worthy way to perish on the battlefield."
"Alright guys, we're getting sidetracked" says Peter, raising his hands to stop the current conversation "Kraglin and Drax, good work on infiltrating that merc band before the handover, did you have any problems getting him to play along?"
"Nope, that guy was a real pushover" says Kraglin, smirking "Yondu would have killed me over half the stuff I said to this guy, he had no idea how to lead a team, even took my recommendation for a landing spot."
"Indeed" adds Drax "he was weak willed and soft, and was easily convinced of our legitimacy."
"Good" says Peter, clasping a hand on Kraglin's shoulder and giving it a shake "nice choice on the music too, I'd never heard that one before now that I've gotten more songs added to the Zune."
"I am Groot"
"Next mission buddy, there was no good way to disguise a tree on a planet covered entirely in sand. Next place we land with a good forest, you're leading the charge out the door.
"I am Groot" he answers happily, seemingly contented with this answer.
"Peter" says Gamora, drawing his attention, "we need to discuss with the rest what the buyer told us."
"Ah, yes, that. Not to rain on the victory parade but we've got some new business to talk about. The buyer ended up being an emissary for The Collector, who by the way apparently isn't mad that the last time we were at his place most of it detonated in a purple explosion because he offered us a job recovering something highly dangerous that was taken from one of his vaults. There weren't many details except that what was stolen was like galaxy threateningly bad and that he believed we were the only team who could handle it. We got a data pad from his emissary, apparently detailing everything about this threat, so it seems pretty official, and we're supposed to give him our response in a few days, so yeah, opinions everyone?"
Rocket speaks first, "I think this whole business smells, we just finish breaking up this guy's deal and all of a sudden he offers us a job, and not only says we're the only ones who can do it but says that it's some vague galaxy ending threat? Yeah right, I bet the second we power on that datapad it sends out our location to a merc group and before I can say told you so we're shot to pieces. Or worse yet we're dragged back to his lair or whatever and I'm stuffed and mounted on the mantel while Groot here gets turned into an oversized coatrack. No way, I say we toss it out the airlock right now."
"Rocket makes a compelling point" says Drax "This Collector is not an ally I put much value or faith in, and we have no way of knowing what is on that data pad without turning it on and possibly compromising ourselves."
"The risks are great in trusting Tivan, yes, but they are even greater if Tivan is telling the truth and something is out there of the same magnitude as an infinity stone. I am the only one among us who has dealt with him extensively before, and while I'm not proud of that time in my life, he has never been dishonest about business. He would oftentimes manipulate circumstances to give himself the greatest favor, that is true, but he was always straightforward when time came for the transaction. Besides, we are small pieces in the galaxy as a whole, even if we are drawing more and more attention with each successful job. What reason would he have for such a complicated revenge against us?"
"What, are you serious Gamora" asks Rocket incredulously "not only did most of his collection on Knowhere blow up the last time we were there, we also took a little thing called an infinity stone right out from in front of him, something need I remind you he was willing to pay FOUR BILLION UNITS for. He even mentioned in his little message that he was pretty pissed that we handed it over to the Nova Core instead of him."
"I am Groot"
"Thank you Groot, and he was very rude, offering you money for your corpse."
"Ok, firstly we did not destroy his collection, his assistant did when she grabbed the exposed infinity stone. And secondly it has been nearly a near since that time, if a man as powerful as Tivan wanted us dead we would have known by now. Also in his message, and based on what his emissary said, he sounded almost scared, that he could lose his privileged status among the galactic governments over a single item should give all of us pause to consider what that implies."
After a few moments in which all of the guardians stand, lost in their own thoughts, Kraglin finally breaks the silence, saying "I'm for whatever the rest of you want to do, Rocket has a point about it being dangerous to trust him, but if this guy is as powerful as Gamora describes and if he's squirming enough to ask us for help… then it's got to be something serious."
"I am in agreement with Rocket about this, the threat may or may not be real but trusting this man is a mistake" Drax says, while pulling out one of his knives and beginning to sharpen it.
Peter suddenly speaks up from his position leaning against one of the Milano's bulkheads "I'd like to hear Mantis's opinion on what we should do." Mantis, who had been silently observing the conversation from a seat at the far side of the common room, stands up upon hearing her name and, fixing Peter with an inquisitive expression says "well… I know little about this Collector, whether he is worth trusting or not. But if the Galaxy is threatened, then the Guardians must respond."
"My thoughts exactly" says Peter standing up and walking towards the center of the room. "Look, we have twelve hours until we reach Xandar, I say we all get some rest and decide what to do after we finish delivering this package to Nova Prime. Besides, it would be safer to turn on the pad when we're not traveling through interstellar space and are on a safe planet instead, everyone turn in for the night, we aren't going to come to a decision right now anyways."
All of the Guardians nod and speak approval to the plan as they each file out of the common room separately towards their sleeping quarters, leaving Peter alone in the now quite space. Putting on his new headphones, his old ones being left behind with his destroyed Walkman on Ego's planet, he climbs the stairs to the cockpit and resting in the pilot's chair with his feet all the way up on the console stares up at the stark blackness hurtling all around the Milano as the ship sails on towards Xandar and an important decision.