Just as a quick note, the song that gets used in this chapter is "My Life" by Billy Joel, if you want to listen along while you read when it comes up— it definitely helped me write it. Have fun!

Six Years Later

Siethea - Dwarf Planet

You would think that if you traveled far enough out in space, things would only become more and more unfamiliar. But the think about limitless worlds in a limitless galaxy is that more often than you'd like, you're bound to run into things that you almost recognize.

Such was the case of Siethea's great temple. Sprawling across an otherwise beautiful land, it stood haughty and polished, making the otherwise gentle light it reflected come off as blinding. Smooth stone walls and pillars of creamy white, arches and needlessly intricate molding on the ceiling and base of the floor, tapestries and lanterns and looming doorways and…

… it was an eyesore. An eyesore that deserved, at the very very least, to be overtaken by a flock of Siethea's version of pigeons. To help adorn those tediously polished stone walls and pillars.

The pillars, unsightly as they were, provided ample footing at their tops. Thus, Nebula and Groot were able to traverse the temple unseen by those below.

Nebula landed on another pillar top, crouching forward to divert some of the weight to her hands and off her feet, softening the sound. She listened intently for footsteps below, before slowly rising and flattening herself against the arch that came from the pillar top and peaked at the ceiling. Her eyes scanned the floor below, watching. Waiting.

A series of beeps made her jerk her attention upward—and she scowled.

"Put it away, Tree."

Groot met her command with a grunt and an eye roll, continuing his game unabated.

Nebula growled right back, "Put it away, or I will destroy it."

He scoffed, "I am Groot."

Ignoring him, she checked once more for anyone who might hear them, then raised a communicator close to her face.

"Rocket. Have you found it?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking I did," the voice on the other end answered her. Somewhere within the same general area of the massive temple, Rocket scratched his neck while staring up at the heavy doors, "Unless these assholes like keeping everything they own locked up behind thirty-foot stone doors."

He paused.

"Which. I'm thinking ain't too far off." After hitting a few buttons on the screen of the communicator he continued, "I'm sending everyone the spot, so get over here."

With a faint ping, the location was received, and Nebula studied it momentarily before pocketing the device.

"We're moving, Tree."

She crouched, then launched herself over the width of the hallway, landing nimbly on the pillar top. To her growing frustration, she was not followed by Groot, still engrossed in his game.

The next thing he knew, a metal fist was embedded in the stone next to his head, and an equally stony face was inches from his.

And then, the game was wrenched from his grasp. Nebula stared at him coldly for a second longer before shoving it into the pocket of her jacket.

"Move. Or be moved."

She vacated his pillar, and Groot released the breath he'd been holding. Then he scowled.

"I am Groot."

"I don't understand, and I don't care," was the harsh whisper she shot back.

He groaned, as if asked to perform some arduous feat. But begrudgingly, he did follow.

Rocket had barely closed the communicator before his ears perked up at the sound of voices. He flattened against the closest wall, obscured from view by a pillar, and poked his head out the smallest bit in order to see.

A hallway ran perpendicular to the one he currently hid in, a good twenty feet away. As the sounds of voices came closer, a strange procession came into view.

Hooded figures in pale orange robes walked solemnly, heads bowed and obscured. The robes trailed just behind their feet, covering nearly everything that laid beneath. They were small, identical, and practically seemed to cower before the one who led them.

A massive man, practically as wide as he was tall, lumbered at the head of the group. His nose lingered where the top of his head might have been, held high and mightily in contrast to those around him. His heavy steps fell in tandem with his low, droning words that Rocket didn't understand and, frankly, didn't give a shit about.

Probably some sorta snobby priest or something. Rocket scoffed, Prick.

The large man's eyes were half-lidded, as if he was putting himself to sleep with his own listless words. His robes, though the same color as the figures around him, were by no means bare: jewels, gold ornaments, and chains of dark metal adorned the garment.

The light that reflected off them gleamed in Rocket's eyes.

Well, if he's so holy, then he's not gonna need any of those whole "worldly pleasures," now is he? Rocket smirked at his own reasoning, Might as well do him a favor.

Before he could even consider the fact that just maybe, waiting for his team was more important than potentially sabotaging the whole mission for a few sparkly rocks, he was trailing behind the group at a safe distance.

Four hooded figures, walking in a messy single file, traversed one of the many hallways of the temple. Their robes, which should have just touched the floor, varied from a few inches too long to far too short.

Peter Quill revealed the communicator from his sleeve the smallest bit, enough to check their progress, and made a swift right down the next hall. The three behind him followed in suit.

"Well we're not dead yet, so we're doing something right," he muttered, peering back at his team. "Mantis, your… your thingies are—y'know, sticking out."

She blinked at him cluelessly for a second before it clicked; with a nod of understanding, she pulled the hood over her antennae. Now it stood upright in the air, almost taller than the rest of them.

"It that better?"

"No," Drax answered from behind her, "It's worse."

"… Well can you maybe, I dunno, put 'em flat against your head or—"

"They are not comfortable when they are like that," she protested, interrupting Peter.

Someone hit Peter's arm, accompanied by a chuckle.

"Yes, honestly Quill, you should be more sensitive to the needs of your team." Thor gave him a smug smile from under his hood, "As their… "leader"."

Slowly, Peter turned his head to fix him with something just short of a glare.

Great. This shit again.

"Okay, first of all," he started, still keeping his voice at a whisper, "I don't appreciate the sarcasm you've got going here—"

"Oh no, no sarcasm: of course not," Thor assured, "That's just the way I talk. No, of course you're the leader; no one's questioning it." He glanced back at the team, "You two don't question it, right? Who's in charge."

A silence followed.

"… I am starting to be less certain," Mantis answered in confusion.

Peter frowned, "Dude, Thor, don't try to—"

He was ignored and subsequently interrupted, "Which way now, Star Shine?"

"Star Lord," he stressed, "You Stay-Puffed looking…"

A hooded figure—revealed to be a priestess— rounded the corner in front of them. The team went silent, heads bowing to conceal their faces. As if two massive guys who could barely fit into their stolen robes didn't arouse enough suspicion.

After a few more quick turns and held breaths, the four arrived at the designated hallway. Like Rocket had mentioned, it held a set of towering, heavy doors that were adorned with carvings and ornate stones alike.

… and speaking of Rocket.

"Rocket," Peter hissed into the communicator, "The hell are you, man?"

"What, you can't open a door without me?"

"You were supposed to meet us here!"

"I'm doing something—I'll be there in a second." He was lying, of course. Now within eyesight of the large priest and mass of priestesses, there was no turning back.

Peter held down the button to say more, but ultimately bit his tongue and released it.

"If he's somewhere digging in the trash again…" He pressed the button, "Nebula, you close?"

"Above you."

He glanced up—she perched on a column, Groot across from her.

Peter flashed her a thumbs up, half hoping it would be returned (it wasn't) and turned to face the doors.

In the center was a massive circular lock, cast in dark metal. It branched out across the stone, reaching both the top and bottom of the giant doors.

After some rifling through his pockets beneath the orange robe, Peter withdrew a small device that resembled a glorified dentist's tool. He stuck it in the lock, turning it this way and that.

This continued for a solid minute, the doors remaining in place.

"… It didn't work," Drax observed.

"Yeah, I can see it didn't work." He stood, looking the doors up and down as if searching for the problem, "… It looks like… you're supposed to stick something in here—" Peter gestured vaguely to the face of the lock, "—that's big enough to trip the parts on the edge, which'll trigger the other parts to move and… make the parts connected to those parts… slide out of the way…"

He trailed off uncertainly, rubbing the area under his nose as if it helped hide his expression.

Drax stared him dead in the eyes.

"That makes no sense."

"What I'm saying is," he tried to recover, "If we can hold down those parts at the edge while turning it, we'll probably be able to open it without anyone noticing."

Before the suggestion could be considered, Thor stepped up to the door.

"I'll handle this."

At his side, he held Stormbreaker. Peter's eyes widened.

"Whoa whoa—" He held out an arm to halt Thor in his tracks, "What are you doing?"

"I'm opening the door," he answered simply.

"Is that gonna be quiet?"

"Of course."

"Really? Because I don't think that's gonna be quiet."

"No, it'll be incredibly quiet. Silent."

"And if we are heard," Drax interrupted seriously, "We will fight whoever comes to stop us."

Thor beamed, gesturing back to him, "See? He gets it."

On the rafters above, Nebula watched with growing aggravation.

"What are you doing?" she snapped into the communicator.

"Opening the door," Thor answered, mostly to himself.

"No he's not—we're not gonna axe the door!" Peter planted himself in front of the lock, hands up in preparation to divert Thor's attempt, "The hell are you thinking?"

Thor raised an eyebrow, "And how are you suggesting we get in?"

"Like I was saying, we hold down the… the things—"

"What does that say, there?" Thor suddenly asked, pointing to a spot on the door near the top. Peter, distracted, glanced up to read it, backing away from the door slightly to see the spot referenced—

—giving Thor the opportunity to drive Stormbreaker squarely into the lock, shattering it completely.

It was not quiet.

The Guardians froze. Down the hall, the priest and priestesses froze.

And then they began to run towards the source of the sound.

"Shit," Rocket breathed, having been only inches from a score when the crash erupted. Now, he watched helplessly as the robed figures proceeded down the hall away from him.

"What the hell was that?!" Peter snapped, but Thor seemed unfazed; rather, he had the expression of a satisfied housecat.

He made a sweeping gesture towards the now unlocked doors, "After you."

Nebula was the first to hear the now chattering procession as it appeared in the perpendicular hallway.

"Idiots!" It wasn't quite a yell, but held the same acid, "They heard you!"

"Yeah I wonder how?!" Peter tried to reach for his gun, but the robes fell in the way—he made a desperate attempt to squirm out of them in time. Drax simply ripped the fabric down the middle casting it aside and brandishing his knives. They faced the perpendicular hallway, braced for the fight ahead.

Nebula withdrew a knife from her boot, prepared to leap down in defense of the team. Everyone tensed up. Ready.

And then, they heard it. The music.

"Got a call from an old friend we'd used to be real close

Said he couldn't go on the American way

Closed the shop, sold the house, bought a ticket to the west coast—"

Peter, recognizing the song, scrambled to turn off his Zune— only to find it missing.

As expected, the procession fell for the trick; they diverted their course to follow the sound, and the small furry creature that was blaring it.

Rocket secured the Zune on the front of his shirt, connected to a small, portable speaker perched on his shoulder, carrying the tech as well as the rest of his idiot team.

"Bought you some time, you damned morons!" He didn't even bother to shout it into the communicator before dashing down the hall, "Hurry the hell up!"

He disappeared around a bend, the priest and priestesses trailing behind. Nebula didn't waste any time; she jumped to her feet.

"Watch your team," she told Groot, "I'll help your friend."

"I am Groo—"

"I still don't understand!" She abandoned him to leap to another pillar top, pursuing the group.

Down below, Peter took the liberty of shouldering the heavy doors, and they flew open.

For the first time, they found an actual threat in the form of guards: several of them, each with a long, electrified spear to their name.

"Let's make it a goal of not getting stabbed, alright?" Peter prompted before engaging his helmet, "We ran out of band aids on the ship."

With a yell, Drax dove into the fray, followed closely by Thor, then Peter. Mantis, not nearly as eager, was content to walk.

Rocket had dropped to all fours to scurry through the temple, blatantly aware of the fact that he hadn't planned further than this.

He tried to dart around a corner—the glossy stone floor offered no traction or give for his claws. Into the wall he went.

A string of curses joined the music, but he shook it off and continued to flee.

Only a matter of time before I hit a dead end, he reasoned, Gotta think of something better than running like an idiot.

Rocket dashed past a few groups of baffled priestesses who either stared at him or backed up like he carried a disease.

In a nearby hallway (his turns weren't quite as sharp anymore), his eyes caught a tapestry hung against the wall—if he could climb up it, it wouldn't be too hard to reach one of the pillars. Taunting the priest from above sounded a whole lot better than continuing to focus on not slamming into walls.

Rocket dashed over to the tapestry, and make a jump for it.

And came up just short.

He crouched low, and jumped again—still just inches away.

"You gotta be kidding me." On instinct, he glanced around to make sure no one had seen it.

A priestess had stopped just a few feet away, staring blankly.

Rocket felt the heat rise into his cheeks, and he bared his teeth.

"The hell are you looking at?!"

She raised her hands in defense, but it only added to his embarrassment. He snarled at her. She ran. He did the same, in the other direction.

Music still partially deafening him, Rocket didn't bother once looking back to see how closely he was being followed. So, when he found himself in a dead end, his initial reaction was to turn and head back.

But the voices were right there, effectively cutting off his escape.

"Crap."

He reached back for his gun, prepared to create his own way out.

"Rocket!"

Nebula was revealed to be the source of the voice, dangling from a pillar top by one hand.

"About time!" he chastised, using his free hand to accept hers, and was subsequently yanked upwards.

The force of it freed the Zune from his shirt, and as it fell, it disconnected from the speaker's cord and abruptly halted the music.

"SHIT!"

He released his gun and jerked forward in an attempt to catch the Zune, thus throwing Nebula off balance. With a clatter, the gun hit the ground. Then Rocket. Then Nebula.

Opening his eyes hesitantly, Rocket saw the Zune clutched safely in his hand. He exhaled heavily.

And then he was hit on the back of the head.

"You and the tree with your stupid toys!"

Rocket shot her a glare, holding the area painfully, "Jesus man! Just cave in my skull why don't you?"

He rose to his feet, this time making sure the Zune was secured in a lower pocket. Then he went for his gun—

But the priest got there first. This time, he was joined by a mass of guards. The gun was leveled with Rocket's head, while the spears, already live with electricity, were pointed squarely as Nebula. Her knife halted mere inches from one of the cowering priestesses.

No one spoke. Just stood around and stared at each other.

… We can take 'em.

Then again, he could almost make out the scorch marks on the inner barrel of his gun.

"… Hey, I'm just amazed you managed to bend down and pick up my gun, at all," he shot towards the priest. Nebula repressed a groan beside him.

Thor's rollicking laughter boomed through the short chamber, Stormbreaker whirling through the air as it demolished everything in its path—banisters, pillars, guards, lampstands. Drax was doing a similar caliber of damage, but channeling it solely into taking down the guards that made the mistake of charging him.

Even with a gun, Peter had to take great care to avoid the electrified spears being plunged towards him. He leapt back as one came within inches of relieving him of his left ear, but it sent him into Mantis, who stumbled before righting herself.

"Hey! Be careful!" he cautioned, firing at his opponents.

"I'm sorry!" she blurted quickly, "Is there a way that I can help you—"

"Duck!"

She did as instructed, and Peter fired at the guard behind her. When she stood again, Peter had returned to fighting the swarm of guards before him.

Mantis glanced around awkwardly, searching for something to do. None of the guards seemed to be concerned with her, instead devoting their attention to the three that they considered the bigger threat. She would set her sights on a guard, only for them to be taken out by another guardian.

Thor landed in the floor—in the floor, not on it— a few feet from her, so she hurried over to aid him. He allowed himself to be helped up, brushing the rubble from his beard.

"Are you alright?!"

"Oh yes, thank you—it's certainly not the first time I've fallen through a floor."

Guards came running their way. Thor hurled Stormbreaker. The guards weren't going to be running again, anytime soon.

"Is there any way I can help you fight?" she offered earnestly. Thor's smile seemed uncertain, but still friendly.

"I think I can protect myself," he began to return to the fray, stopping to add, "Thank you though—I'll let you know if anything changes."

Again, Mantis was alone. She meshed her hands together, remaining in place.

Thor was wrecking shop on his own. Peter managed to get himself knocked upside the head with a spear but was otherwise fine.

Drax was yelling out with each blow he struck; the knives were hardly even needed.

"Drax, do you need—"

He continued to shout as a guard was flung into the air, spinning like a falling blossom. His landing wasn't as delicate or quiet.

Mantis' head lowered, and she quietly retreated to the side of the chamber while the others fought.

After another loud, destructive minute, the chamber was cleared of guards, and they were able to proceed through another door only slightly smaller than the first.

All sources of natural light were effectively stifled, so the room was lit with several candles balanced atop metal lampstands. The room was hazy with the smoke of candles and incense, giving it an eerie vibe.

It was filled with artifacts, from paintings and massive tapestries, bound books and scrolls, to metal objects that glistened in the low candlelight. Everything was coated in a healthy layer of dust.

Peter retracted his helmet, exhaling slowly.

"Everyone alive? No one got stabbed?" he asked around.

Mantis rubbed her eyes, "My head is very heavy from all the candles and incest."

Peter made a sound like he was experiencing whiplash.

"The WHAT?"

"… From the smoke? Of the candles and—"

"Incense. It's called incense."

Thor snickered, but managed to disguise it by carefully studying a nearby stack of books.

Once Peter recovered, he addressed the group again, "Alright gang… let's be quick. Keep an eye out for anything soul stone related."

"Meaning what?" Drax questioned.

"Something like a… a map, or a gilded box or… you know, something like that," Thor replied, "Something that looks expensive or exceedingly old."

"But," Peter piped up quickly, "If you see anything that looks like it might set off a trap—like floor spikes or a giant bolder—then don't touch it. You got it?"

They went off in different directions, scrounging through piled of what were probably priceless relics. For the most part, they were not handled as such.

"Pst," Peter hissed, "Mantis. Hey."

She perked up, "Yes?"

He held up the book he'd been flipping through, revealing a crudely drawn image of a large, bald figure. Then he gestured to Drax, who was currently throwing aside an expensive looking metal vase.

Mantis giggled, "Very funny—now show Drax!"

"No we don't wanna—" He pointed between the two of them, grinning, "Joke's just between us."

"Ohhhh…" she replied in a conspiratory tone, "I get it. A secret joke."

"Yeah, you got it."

Thor blew dust off yet another scroll, and when he didn't find anything interesting, tossed it into the pile of scrolls he'd been amassing. His eyes wandered to a far corner of the room, then stopped.

"I don't suppose we're looking for something like that?"

They followed his gaze to a large, golden trunk hidden in the shadows. It was adorned in deep orange stones of various sizes, and almost every inch of the lid was covered in candles, incense holders, white flower petals, and other offerings.

"… Yeah. That could be it."

The four approached it together, staring down at the garish thing.

"It could be some sort of trap," Drax cautioned, looking to Peter, "I will open it."

Peter glanced between the trunk and Drax, then shrugged.

"Go ahead."

Drax stepped up to the trunk cautiously, studying it.

"It might be a good idea to set all that junk on the top off to the—"

Peter's advice went unheeded as Drax, in no mood to be patient or subtle, swept everything onto the floor.

Thor flashed him a thumbs up, "Or you can do that."

With a deep breath, Drax placed his hands on the lid, putting his whole weight into shoving it away from the box. It produced a low scraping sound, and faint light poured into the box.

Drax, his back to the team, screamed.

The group sprang into action; Thor's axe erupted with electricity, Peter raised both guns in preparation, and Mantis braced herself to attack.

"What?!" Peter shouted, "What is it?!"

Drax turned to face them, face neutral.

"It's empty."

…

Peter ran over in disbelief, but it was just like Drax had said: empty. Utterly bare. Not so much as a speck of dust.

"… Why…" he began, turning to face Drax, "…the hell did you scream like that?!"

"I was surprised."

"By what?! There's nothing inside!"

His face didn't change, "That's why I was surprised."

Peter growled, then kicked the trunk with full force, not so much as budging it. He tried to hide his limp as he stalked away, holding his head in frustration.

Mantis looked between the three, "… What do we do now?"

"We keep looking."

Peter faced them again, no humor in his voice.

"We keep looking until we find something—anything." His gaze intensified, "We're getting her back. One way or another."

It was met with somber expressions. Even Thor offered a nod.

"We will."

Peter nodded too, but made an attempt to regain his machismo shortly after, "Right—I know we will." He sniffed shortly, scratching his nose, "Alright. Now. Let's meet back up with—"

As if on cue, the room was flooded with another wave of guards, but those at the head of the charge led between them an extremely unhappy Nebula, and a slightly less unhappy Groot and Rocket. All three stood with their arms held before them, clasped in some sort of metal brace that completely obscured their hands.

Rocket, looking surprisingly smug for someone with three spears within inches of his neck, offered a nod.

"Hey, so these dipshits here informed me that we got a little problem with your plan, Quill."

Peter was rapidly counting the guards in the room, trying to determine their chances.

"Yeah and what's that?"

"Well first of all, they got like, a shit-ton more of these guys here—" He gestured to the friendly guards stood poised to impale him, "—so chances are at least one of us are gonna die before they do."

Thor did not stand down, "I'm willing to gamble."

Rocket gave him a flat look, "Well considering that's coming from the guy who doesn't have electric sticks pointed at his throat…"

"Anything else?" Peter interrupted.

"Yeah. Someone beat us to the punch."

Drax looked between them, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Nebula said lowly, "Someone has already stolen what we came for."

The words sunk in. Peter lowered his guns.

"… well shit."

Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave any comments/critique you have, as I'd really appreciate the feedback.