/ yeah, I'm gonna butcher Heather, Nova, and probably Phyla-vell's backstory.
This chapter got silly real fast. And hey, Thanks.
A spaceship exploded, but it wasn't Nebulas fault this time. Heather stumbled out of her lab seconds before her lab exploded. She was clutching the only surviving specimen to her chest. The explosion sounded like a thunderclap echoing through the bones of the ship. The tremor that followed knocked her off balance, she fell, dropping the specimen. It squeaked indignantly and ran as fast as its small furry legs could carry it. Peter stumbled out of his cabin in his light blue pajamas and pink bunny slippers. "Grab that musty!" Heather scrambled to her feet and ran towards them.
"The what?" Peter squinted at her, he was still half asleep. The specimen scurried around Peter's feet, he yelped in surprise and drew his handgun. Heather tackled him as he fired. The bullet ricocheted off the floor shattering the ceiling light. Peter yanked Heather out of harm's way as broken glass rained down. The specimen fled down the hallway, squealing in fear.
"I need it alive!" Heather shouted to hear over the ringing in her ears. She chased after the specimen, glass crunching under her slippers.
Nebula's cabin door slid open, wondering what kind of moron would fire a gun in an enclosed space. Her gaze settled on Peter, "I'm trying to sleep, you invertebrate sewage dweller!"
"Can't argue right now, need to catch a rodent!" Peter pointed down the hallway.
"What? Peter, hey!" Nebula and Peter easily caught up with Heather. "What the hell is going on?"
Heather had lost sight of the specimen, she dropped to the floor looking under a table. "One of my specimens escaped, I need it back."
Nebula took a cautious step back, "the one with the contagious disease, that eats people's eyes?"
Heather cringed trying to come up with a delicate way to say yes. "Seriously?" Peter yelled.
"I am this close to developing a cure," Heather said in her defense. "That specimen is immune to the disease, I need to," A chorus of high pitched screams cut Heather off.
"I found your musty." Nebula headed in the direction of the screaming.
Peter grabbed Heather by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. She found herself looking down at the metal floors, she pushed herself upright. "This is highly unnecessary!"
"You're too slow," Peter offers as an explanation. Heather squirmed trying to get comfortable. She twisted around until she was sitting on his shoulder. They followed the sound to the servants quarters. Noihr and Lytah shrieked as the rodent scurried past them. Hexia tried to stomp on it.
"Don't kill it!" Heather shrieked, and Peter shoved Hexia aside. Nebula snatched the specimen off the ground but it wriggled out of her grasp. In a blind panic, the specimen squeezed into the air vent. Nebula rips it off the wall and makes a futile attempt to grab it. Her thoughts clouded with fear and that turned to rage. She punched the wall, chipping away the drywall and revealing the metal paneling beneath.
Heather knew she should have been more careful, this was her fault. If she had been faster or stronger like her older siblings the specimen wouldn't have escaped. Now they could have an epidemic on their hands. Heather rested her cheek against Peter's head. "Chillax Neb, we'll find it." He sounded confident despite his own thoughts drifting to the worst case scenario.
Several insults past through Nebula's mind before she settled on, "you bird brain, it could be anywhere on the station by now! How in the seven hells are we supposed to catch it?"
"We could smoke it out," Peter suggested.
"We're not going to poison our own air supply." Nebula wrinkled her nose at him.
"Can't handle a little poison, Smurfette?" It sounded like a challenge.
Nebula rolled her eyes, "How can so much stupid reside in such a small person?"
"I'm not small! I'm taller than you!" Peter said indignantly. They kept arguing but Heather wasn't listening anymore. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing until everything else fell away. At first, she could hear the thoughts of the people closest to her as indistinct whispering. Their thoughts grew louder as she reaches out further. Soon hundreds of voices joined the choir. She could feel the servants sleeping in their quarters, Thanos doing paperwork, Proxima Midnight and her husband sparring. They were all shouting at her, it felt like someone was driving an ax through her skull. She still hadn't found what she was looking for. She reaches out. Heather was wading through the sea of voices until she finds it; a less complex consciousness. She lets all the other voices fade into the background. Heather had only tried this once before on an insect, with guidance from Ebony Maw. She latched onto the specimens stream of consciousness and pushed her way in. It put up more of a fight than Heather expected but she overpowered the creature.
Heather blinks her eyes rapidly, as she adjusts to seeing through the rodent's eyes. There were colors she had never seen before, colors her language had no words for. The number of foreign sounds and smells was overwhelming, every sound is crisper, louder. She was moving fast. She felt comfortable in the darkness, running through the air vents with no destination in mind. There are flashes of light, glimpses of ships and boxes. There were big men with guns and others in long white coats unloading equipment. Someone was speaking in a language she didn't understand, his voice booming through the vents. It was familiar but she couldn't place who the voice belonged to. She had a craving for raw meat, she should have been fed by now. She had never been so far from the safety of her box of wood chips, it was very frightening.
"Jellybean?" Suddenly she was somewhere else, someone else. Her vision dulled to muted tones, and her head is throbbing. She rubs her eyes and felt for whiskers that weren't there. She traced the red swirls on her olive green skin curiously with her finger. She could have sworn she had fur, but no, that was wrong. "Jellybean, are you okay?" It took her a moment to shake off the feeling of being a musty. She remembered who the voice belongs too.
"I know where the specimen is," Heather said placing one hand on Peter's head to steady herself. "It's on the lower levels of the flight deck." Nebula and Peter exchanged glances both confused on how Heather got this information. She sighed trying to come up with a simplified explanation of the experience, "I projected my consciousness into the specimens mind."
"You can do that?" Peter asked out of disbelief.
"Ebony taught me how," Heather says with a hint of pride.
"We're wasting time. Let's go before we have an epidemic on our ship," Nebula pointed down the hallway. Peter and Nebula ran back the way they came, heading for the main stairwell. "I'll guard the vents on the flight deck. You two find the musty."
"Gotcha, we got time for a quick snack?" Peter asked Nebula, she rolled her eyes in response. "No? Not even one of those protein bars?"
"I like those!" Heather chimed in.
"You're both the worst!" Nebula shouted as she lunges over the railing on the stairwell.
Peter leaned over the railing, watching Nebula drop down to the basement level. "Fine. We'll stop the epidemic first, and then get a snack," he said. Heather clung tightly to Peter as he jumped over the railing. She closed her eyes as the ground rushed to meet them. "How's the weather up there?" Peter asked as they landed.
"Never do that again, please." Heather squeaked, opening her eyes slowly.
"Sorry, I forgot you're allergic to hights." Peter weaved through the hallways, pushing disgruntled servants out of the way. They took a shortcut to the flight deck through the cargo bay. Peter punched the button to open the door, the light flashed red and beeped. It was locked. "Oh come on," He tapped his pockets and then froze. He forgot his security access card in his cabin.
"I have mine," Heather hand it to him.
He swiped it thought lock. "You're a lifesaver, Jellybean!" Heather smiled, happy to be helpful. Peter bounced on the balls of his feet as the door slid open. They arrived moments after Nebula did. "Okay, where is it?" Peter scanned the flight deck but couldn't find the rodent. Scientists and hired guns milled about the room unloading the ships.
Heather closed her eyes. She knew reaching out again would only make her headache worse, but she needed to try. She knew she could do this. It was easier to find the specimens consciousness the second time. Heather latched onto its mind, pushing her way in. She exhaled slowly, as she adjusted to her heightened senses. It was huddled between the wall and a large computer. Across the room, there were creates labeled rations. It was safe in the shadows. There were too many giants around to risk moving. The hunger was stronger now, she could smell meat somewhere to her left.
Something soft is pressed against her face. "...ears are bleeding!" She panicked, recoiling away from the offending object. Her eyes flew open, she was uncertain of where or who she was. Everything felt wrong. The pain in her head was unbearable. The bright lights and noise only made it worse. It was too much. She couldn't take it anymore. No more. No more. No more.
~~•˖✧• •✧˖•~~
His Jellybean pressed the palm of her hands into her eyes. Peter had set her down on the table after she nearly fell off his shoulders. Nebula stood vigilant by the air vent, looking for the musty. Morgen set down his work and fetched the emergency first aid kit when he saw Heather's ears were bleeding. Heather was hyperventilating, consumed by panic and pain. She kept muttering the words, "no more," over and over again.
"No more what? What do you need?" Peter asked gently.
"It's too much, too bright, too noisy." Heather murmured, shaking her head back and forth.
Peter could fix that. Morgen set the first aid kit down, "can I help?"
"Nah we're good, gimme this," he yanked a tie from Morgen's collar. He carefully tied it around Heather's eyes, "Is that better? Not too tight?" she nodded adjusting the blindfold. Peter pulled out his Walkman from his back pocket. He slipped the headphones over Jellybean's ears and cranked the volume. He could hear Love The One You're With by Stephen Stills playing through his headphones. Peter sat next to her on the table, Jellybean leaned against him. She dropped her arms to her sides, resting a hand on top of Peters. When the song ends, Peter turns down the music so Heather can hear him. "Where is the musty?"
Jellybean tugged the blindfold off but kept the headphones. She glanced around the room and pointed to the far wall. There is a pile of crates full of food rations, and a desk. Morgen checked Heather for any serious head injury and helped her clean up the blood. Peter slid off the table and crept across the room. He knelt down to look under the desk, and he locked eyes with the musty. Its black fur turned grey from dust, its round brown eyes hungry and afraid. Its pink ears twitched irritably.
Peter dragged the desk away from the wall with one swift movement. The musty sprinted towards the crates, and Peter gave chase. He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline and an anesthetic as his enhancements kicked in. The musty moved surprisingly fast for something so small. It squeezed into a crate, and Peter kicked it over. Meat and dairy products slid across the room, along with the musty. It squealed in fear running through the crowd of not yet corpses. Peter shoved them out of the way as he ran. One of the not-corpses panicked as the musty scurried by and opened fire. Heather shouted, "don't shoot," as Peter jumped into the line of fire and drew his own blaster on it. Headshot, bonus points! The corpse fell limply to the floor. Blood splattered across the floor where the musty had been, Peter hoped it came from the corpse.
The musty ran over Morgen's foot. He screamed in a falsetto and punted it across the room. Morgen lept backward, fumbling onto the table. The musty bounced once and slid under a warship. Peter was too busy laughing at Morgen to notice the toolbox on the floor. He tripped, knocking files off the table as he fell. Paper flew everywhere, covering the floor and Peter. "Idiots!" Nebula shouted kicking a crate in front of the air vent, before running towards the warship. She dropped to the floor as Peter sat up. "I can't get them out," she was on her belly, reaching under the warship.
Heather pulled the headphones off, "its hungry, try luring it out with meat."
Nebula grabbed one of the rations of meat from the floor and opened the packaging. "Pete, grab that jar."
Peter mumbles, "okay." He was preoccupied with the new bullet holes his blood-soaked shirt. Sure, being shot stung a little, but it absolutely ruined clothing. He'd have to throw this shirt away. Peter sighed, grabbed an open jar off the ground.
Nebula set out the meat and backed away. There was a tense moment while they waited for the musty to immerge. The musty crept out from under the warship. It watched them with frightened beady eyes. Its nose twitched twice, and it ran directly for the meat. Peter slammed the jar down, trapping the musty inside. "I got it, " he announced. Heather and Morgen got down from the table. Morgen punched holes into the lid of the jar with his knife and handed it to Nebula. She slid a piece of paper under the jar and flipped it over. The musty squealed and pawed at the side of the jar, as she put the lid on it.
Heather took the jar from Nebula, "thanks, Neby. I am sorry for bothering you with all of this. I know it's late, and you have training tomorrow."
Nebula sighed shifting her weight uncomfortably, she stole a glance in Peter's direction. She almost felt a bit jealous of Peter and Heather's relationship. She never came to Nebula with her problems and Nebula wasn't the first react when Heather was in trouble. "Sometimes," Nebula couldn't say any of that, and blurted out, "you don't always bother me."
Heather stares down at the jar. "You're not always a terrible older sister."
Nebula rolled her eyes and nudged Heather with her elbow, "nerd."
The room relaxed with the threat neutralized. Morgen was sifting through his papers salvaging what he could, most of them had been soaked in blood and then stepped on. The cleaning bots milled about the room trying to mop up the blood. One cleaning bot kept running into Lijah's dead body while beeping in distress. The hired guns stood to the side of the room, they have all awaken to the fact that their lives mean nothing here. Some of them are terrified or angry, none of them know what to do. The scientist and engineers had fled the moment Lijah had fired at the musty. Peter won't be reprimanded for killing Lijah. In fact, he would be replaced by the end of the week. Heather took off the headphones and handed Peter his walkman. "I think I got blood on your headphones."
Peter shrugged, returning his walkman to his back pocket. "Don't worry about it, Jellybean, I'm covered in it."
Heather knit her eyebrows together, "I see that, are you okay?"
Peter did his best to clean himself up with a towel, "ah this is nothing."
"You've been shot four times how are you standing right now?" Morgen pushed up his glasses.
"Cybernetic enhancements pump you full of adrenaline and an anesthetic," Nebula explained.
"Huh?" Peter looked down at his chest counting three bullet holes. His hand went to his head, "Oh my god! That bastard shot my ear off, oh my god!" He jumped up and down while shouting and then kicked Lijahs corpse.
Heather pursed her lips, "it will grow back."
"I thought this was nothing?" Nebula says in a mocking tone.
"I lost an ear!" Peter shouted melodramatically, "I need those, Nebula!" He kicked Lijahs corpse again. It didn't make him feel any better. He watched as two cleaning bots got caught on Lijahs corpse and together they pushed it across the floor while beeping in distress.
"Poor baby lost one ear," Nebula said sarcastically, gesturing at him with her bionic arm. "That's really awful. I feel so bad for you!"
Peter cringed, "ah I forgot you were… you know."
"You forgot!?" Nebulas hand went to her hip, but she's in her pajamas. She didn't sleep with her throwing knives, so she settled for throwing her forearm at him.
Peter ducked and it sailed over his head. "I said I was sorry!"
"No, you didn't."
"Oh well," He grabbed Nebulas forearm off the ground. "I'm keeping this."
"Peter," Nebula stalked towards him.
Heather giggled as Nebula chased Peter around the crates. Peter hit Nebula with her own arm, every time she got close. He kept shouting "why are you hitting yourself?" Until Nebula lost her temper and smashed through the crate. She tackled Peter to the ground. His elbow slammed into her gut. Nebula grabbed his arm, twisting it and until he dropped her forearm. Peter kicked her away, but her forearm skidded across the floor to Morgen's feet.
Peter shoves Nebula away, and he holds up his hands for Morgen to throw him Nebulas arm. Nebula shoves Peter while glaring at Morgen with murderous intent. He panicked and tossed Nebula her arm. She clicks it back into place and gets off the floor. "C'mon man, I thought we were cool!" Peter clicked his tongue at Morgen.
"Sorry, I'm more afraid of her than I am of you," Morgen said nervously.
"I'm too cute for my own good," he decided. Nebula glared at Peter and made a point of stepping on his hand. He yelped and recoiled from her, "Oh sorry Nebula. I just forgot how ugly your face was up close for a moment."
Heather bit back a laugh. "Don't encourage him," Nebula glares at Heather, "he's not funny. You're not funny."
"Sorry," Heather hid her smile behind her hand. "That was mean, Pete."
"Not my fault Neb was born without a sense of humor," Peter said. Another mean spirited remark passed through his mind.
Heather was quick to change the subject before they got into another argument. "Hey, can we get that snack now?"
"Hell yes, I'm starving," Peter lead Heather towards the door. Nebula folded her arms across her chest, jutting out one hip. She wanted to come but didn't want to admit it. Peter turned and waved at Morgen, "see ya, doc."
Morgen looked up from his paperwork, "see you, space cowboy." He glanced at Nebula quizzically, she was standing there looking dejected. He didn't have to be a telepath to know what she was thinking. He sighed, "those two will destroy the mess hall without supervision, you know."
Nebula nodded, taking the excuse, "yeah it'd be irresponsible of me to let them go alone." She raced to catch up with them. Heather was waiting for her, holding the door open. Nebula berated them loudly for always causing trouble and Peter called her a stuck up goodie two shoes. Heather put up with their argument about literally nothing, until they reached the mess hall. She threatened to report them both to Thanos for being up past curfew. That shut them up, fast. They had the mess hall all to themselves and the servants made them snacks and hot tea. Peter was eager to tell Heather about their mission, and Nebula talked over him whenever she felt his version of the story strayed too far from reality. It's nights like these that make Heather feel like everything is going to be okay.