Hello everyone! Hope you're doing well! This chapter was literally just an excuse for me to beat on Peter for a little while (because I'm a bit of a sadist). Hope you all enjoy it! :D

"This has to be at least an eight."

There's a scoff from across the room. "Hell no. This is a hard five, easy. That time we was pinned down on Umulsa? That was an eight."

"I think you and I are judging this on a completely different scale."

"We've had worse and ya know it."

"Yeah?" Peter retorts blandly, unimpressed with the remark. "Well at least when we were on Umulsa I didn't have a bullet in my leg."

"We were stuck on a disintegratin' planet for two hours while the core liquified," Yondu counters with a glare. "Umulsa was worse."

Peter sighs and shakes his head. "Whatever, man. All I'm saying is that if I had known I was gonna get shot today I would've just stayed on the ship."

To say that today had not gone according to plan would have been an incredibly polite understatement. Sure, their line of work came with its fair share of risks and dangers, that was unavoidable, but there was a difference between knowing something was dangerous and walking face first into it. That was exactly what had happened today and their simple in-and-out job had turned into hell in a handbasket before any of them knew what was happening. It should have been a quick job with a helluva lot of payout but the universe had other plans.

Getting captured was surprising for a number of reasons, not the first of which was that the planet they were on was supposed to be abandoned and devoid of anything organic. It was a desert planet, dry and arid through and through, and to the best of galactic knowledge it hadn't been habitable for nearly a century. Which was great for them because it meant no one would step in to stop them when they landed planetside and began scouring the desert wasteland for something that might earn a few units.

Prior to its desertion, the planet had been rich supplier of precious metals and materials that could only be found in one place in the universe. It had been an industrial capital and had carved itself a nice little corner in a market the galaxy didn't know it needed before. That was until the planet dried up and the population fled and left it to degrade and languish as little more than a desert moon floating through the vast cosmos.

So yeah, it was a bit unexpected when their landing party suddenly found themselves involved in a firefight in the middle of an abandoned city as they were scrounging for salvageable material. The ambush had been quick and violent, a brutal attack that left three of their men dead within a few seconds of the first shot. The others dove for cover in the dusty and crumbling remnants of the surrounding buildings but the element of surprise had put them at a marked disadvantage and their remaining members were not able to escape unscathed.

There were shouts and curses all around them and somewhere in the melee Peter took a bullet through the leg. Like a real, honest to God, made-of-metal bullet. The pain had been blinding and sudden and it knocked him off his feet before he even knew what happened. He landed hard on his back, stifling a pained grunt and dragging himself behind a crumbling wall to avoid another shot that zipped over his head. They were clearly outgunned and outmatched and there was a high likelihood that they would all be killed here before the day was out. He had gripped his weapon, taken a deep breath, and prepared to go out in a blaze of glory when it came to it.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the shooting stopped and the streets went quiet. From the dusty shadows of the crumbling building, several dozen heavily armed figures emerged. They were wrapped from head to toe in thick beige cloth that helped them blend in with the dust-colored city around them and they were all holding very large, very deadly guns. It was clear they had the advantage in this situation and that one wrong move would inevitably result in being shot in the street.

They moved through the remnants of the city quickly and rounded up the surviving members of the Ravager's party, divesting them of their weapons in the process. One of them kicked Peter's gun out of his hand and jerked him up off the ground roughly, ignoring the hiss of pain that accompanied the movement. He shoved Peter in with the rest of the group and they were marched out of the city toward a large, stone structure about two miles away.

The structure turned out to be what was left of a once large prison compound. It was a huge building divided into four sections, each one filled with iron-barred cells. There were no laser grids or power lock cells, just thick concrete walls and irons bars. It was looming and foreboding but surprisingly primitive for a planet like this. Primitive or not though, it was more than capable of holding a contingent of Ravager prisoners for the unforeseeable future.

It was clear their captors were more than a little unhappy with having a group of trespassers on their planet. They were suspicious and wary and likely had every intention of leaving them to rot in the prison for the rest of their lives. Or they could decide to just kill them all and be done with it. Neither option was great but one posed a more immediate threat than the other.

Whatever the case, they had been locked up going on four hours now. Their party had been separated out all over the prison, probably in an effort to prevent any kind of collaboration for escape. That much was understandable at least; Ravagers were nothing if not resourceful and it would take a whole lot more than a centuries-old prison to keep them in one place for long. Still, it would be difficult to organize any kind of escape plan with half of their members injured and the other half weaponless. Save a monumental stroke of luck, it looked like they were stuck here for the time being.

Peter sighs and slumps against the wall of his cell heavily. His injured leg is stretched out in front of him, the sleeves of his jacket knotted tightly over the still bleeding wound. The bullet is still in there, he can feel it digging deeply into the muscle everytime he moves his leg. Honestly he thinks he's more pissed about the fact that it's a real bullet more than anything else. Laser blast, sure; that would have at least cauterized the wound. But no, there's a bullet stuck in his leg and he's more offended by that than almost anything else.

The hike over here had not done him any favors either. He could barely walk but he knew that if he fell behind or stumbled they'd probably just shoot him in the head to save time and effort. The only reason he was able to remain upright the whole time was because Horuz kept one hand fisted in the back of his jacket during the march over, providing some level of support and stability. Without his assistance, Peter is pretty sure he wouldn't have made it all the way to the prison.

The help didn't stem the bleeding though and Peter left a trail of dark blood splatters all the way from the ruined city to the prison. By the time they made it to the prison and he was tossed in a cell, he was dizzy with pain and blood loss. It's only gotten worse since they've been here and even though he's managed to staunch some of the bleeding, the wound is still oozing lazily and staining the leg of his pants a dark, ugly red. There's a thick layer of sweat breaking out across the back of his neck and soaking through his shirt and he suppresses a shiver in spite of the heat.

Yondu was in the cell across the room from him, slowly and silently attempting to pick the lock on the door. Judging by the lack of progress and the increased level of cursing, Peter guesses it's not going very well.

"How's the lock comin'?" he calls out, voice echoing just a little in the emptiness of the room. They're the only two in here, the rest of their group scattered throughout the rest of the building. Their captors had left them to sit and rot in their cells, apparently trusting in their prison's defenses well enough to not keep a constant eye on them. Occasionally a guard would pass by their block to make sure they were still there but other than a quick pass through, they didn't stay very long. That left them with a lot of free time and a lot of opportunity to pick the lock on their cells and break out. At least in theory.

Yondu scowls as the piece of metal he's been using to work at the lock on his cell bends, rendering itself useless. "It's not," he grumbles irritably. "These bastards may not be high tech but their locks are a pain in the ass. I don't have anythin' thin enough to get past the first set of tumblers."

"That sucks," Peter mumbles, letting his head drop back against the wall behind him. He's tired, he's not sure whether it's from blood loss or just the situation that they're in, but staying awake has become an almost constant battle for the past half hour.

The Ravager captain frowns at the heaviness of his voice and looks up from what he's doing. "How's yer leg?"

"Bleeding," Peter replies with a slight shrug. It hasn't stopped bleeding since he got shot, it's just slowed to a crawl rather than an all out gush. It doesn't change the fact that there's a reddish puddle of bloody mud beneath his leg and streaks of dried and fresh blood across the front of his pants. If the dizziness and cold chills are anything to go on, he's guessing he's lost a rather substantial amount of blood by now.

Yondu mutters some kind of curse under his breath and goes back to tinkering with the lock. "Well, keep pressure on it. Last thing I need is for you to up an' die in that cell before I can get us outta here."

"Aye, aye cap'n," Peter mumbles back, tightening the knot over the wound a little more. It hurts like hell but he figures it's better than bleeding to death.

He sighs and slumps back again; their hopes for a quick escape were getting smaller by the second. It was bad enough that their weapons had been confiscated but Yondu's arrow, which would have solved literally all of their problems from the beginning, had been rendered useless by the magnetic and electrical components of the planet's atmosphere. Some combination of the two prevented the connection between the arrow and its wielder and turned it into little more than a very fancy sharp stick. Not that it would do them much good now, it had been taken along with everything else, but still it might have come in handy with the whole lock-picking thing.

"'Ey!" a voice shouts and something small and hard bounces off his forehead. It's a rock, a small, rough one at that, and it lands on his uninjured leg. Peter startles a little and reaches up, rubbing the spot where it hit. He frowns weakly and glares at Yondu. "What was that for?"

"Stay awake, Quill," the captain tells him seriously, crimson eyes narrowed slightly. "You know as well as I do what happens when ya start dozin' off from blood loss."

Peter frowns, mostly because he didn't realize he'd even closed his eyes let alone lost consciousness for a few seconds. He rubs his forehead again, the movement clumsy and uncoordinated. "Well don't throw rocks, man. Tha's rude."

Yondu points one blue finger at him in response. "Stay awake an' I won't throw rocks at ya."

Peter nods once and makes a concentrated effort to sit up a bit straighter. His head swims for a moment and clenches one fist tightly at his side. They need to find a way out of here or he stands a really good chance of bleeding to death in this cell.

He stares at the lock on his cell for a second and changes tactics. "What about the distress signal? I know Aberra sent out a call before he got shot."

Yondu sighs and shakes his head. "I hate to break it to ya, kid, but if anyone got that signal they'd be here by now. Now the rest'a the crew might start gettin' suspicious once they realize they haven't heard from us for awhile but that might take a couple more hours to a couple more days before that happens. Til' then, we're on our own."

Peter frowns again and turns his attention back to the lock on the cell, staring at the clunky metal pieces and trying to analyze their components. The locks are primitive, thick metal bases with equally thick shackles. The locking mechanism was far too small for anything they had available to them and without something to bypass the cylinders there would be no way to get them unlocked. Since there wasn't anything at their disposal they could use to blast it off the cell door, the next best thing would be a key. And Peter is relatively certain he knows where to find one.

"What if I could get you a key?" he asks suddenly, eyes still locked on the outline of the lock.

Yondu scoffs and shakes his head again. "And how d'ya plan to do that, boy? Make one outta clay?"

Peter glares weakly at the other Ravager. "Not my question. If I could get you a key could you get us out of here?"

The Ravager Captain levels him with a look. "Boy, if you could get me a key we woulda been outta here hours ago." He thinks about the question a bit more and frowns. "Why? What're you planning?"

"I have an idea," Peter tells him simply.

"Yer ideas are terrible, Quill, we've established this," Yondu retorts with a glare of his own.

Peter rolls his eyes and offers a watery grin. "At least I'm consistent, right?"

"Yeah, yer ideas are consistently terrible."

"You let me worry about my terrible idea and just make sure you can get us out of here."

The comment earns him another frown from his blue-skinned captain. "The hell're you plannin' boy?"

Peter doesn't have a chance to answer as there's a shuffle of movement in the corridor outside and a few seconds later one of the armed guards from before appears in the doorway. He looks into the room like he's making note that there are indeed still two prisoners in here and he's about to walk away again when Peter calls out to him.

"Hey man, you think you could get me something for my leg?" Peter asks, motioning toward the injured, bloody limb in indication. "I'm bleeding like a sieve over here and my jacket's soaked through."

The man looks at him blankly for several seconds, staring at him like he's trying to determine if he's serious or not.

Peter rolls his eyes slightly. "Dude, come on, I'm asking for a bandage, not a weapon." The guard doesn't appear persuaded, continuing to eye him warily through the bars. Peter flips his hands up in exasperation and slumps back against the wall. "Seriously? What do you think I'm planning to do? I have a bum leg and you have a gun; you really think I'm gonna try something?"

The guard is silent for a second or so more before finally relenting and digging out a long strip of cloth from one of his pockets. The ring of keys at his belt jingles softly as he moves and Peter is conscious not to look at them for fear of giving away his plan. The guard steps up to the outside of the cell and drops it just on the other side to where Peter will have to crawl to get it.

Peter shakes his head and grumbles under his breath. "Dick," he mutters, pulling himself up slowly and dragging himself toward the strip of cloth. It's a slow, painful process and he has to concentrate really hard not to pass out as he makes his way across the cell. The guard watches him carefully, wary of any sudden movements or tricks, but Peter keeps his head down to keep himself as inconspicuous as possible. He knows Yondu is watching and he really only has one shot to pull this off; otherwise they'll all be dead in a matter of seconds.

He grabs the strip of cloth and slumps against the bars of the cell, breathless and shaky. The short distance between the wall and the bars was enough to leave him winded and his leg is throbbing mercilessly by the time he stops. He tries to ignore the long, ugly smear of blood that streaks its way across the floor of his cell from where he dragged himself over. It's a lot and it's fresh which means the wound has started bleeding all over again. Great.

He takes a deep breath and braces himself for what's about to happen because once it starts there's really no way to stop it. The guard is close, just on the other side of the bars, and Peter makes his move.

He reaches through the bars suddenly and slams his fist in the man's knee, knocking his leg out from under him and sending him staggering to the ground. Just as he lands, Peter is reaching through the bars again and looping the strip of cloth around his throat and tying it tightly to the bars in a makeshift noose. It's not tight enough to kill him, not yet at least, but it will be extremely difficult for him to break free while he's struggling to breathe.

Peter reaches through bars again and unhooks the the man's belt, the jingle of keys clattering to the floor loudly. The guard's gun goes off as he struggles against the cloth around his neck, peppering the ceiling with bullets and bullet holes. It's sure to get the other guard's attention and Peter knows they don't have much time left.

He retrieves the keys and throws them across the room toward Yondu's cell, the sound of metal crashing against stone filling the room. There are shouts coming from down the hall and loud, thundering footsteps and suddenly the room is filled with armed guards.

They see their trapped companion and the bleeding Terran holding him hostage and immediately go on the offensive. The cell door is ripped open and they descend on him like a pack of wolves, beating him mercilessly with the butts of their gun. Peter curls in on himself as much as he can but he's grinning like a lunatic through blood-stained teeth. Everything was going according to plan…

Someone kicks him in his wounded leg and the pain is nearly enough to make him black out. His vision goes simultaneous black and white around the edges and everything fades out for a moment. It all comes back with sudden, painful vengeance when a large, rough hand clamps around his throat and slams him against the wall with enough force to make his vision go black again momentarily.

"So much for your escape plan," the guard with his hand around Peter throat snarls, slamming his head against the wall again.

Peter is pretty sure he blacks out again for a second but when he comes to he's laughing. It's a mildly hysterical sound but he doesn't care. "Who said anything about me trying to escape?" he asks to no one in particular, his words slurred and heavy as he speaks. He has blood in his mouth and he spits it out with a grin. "I'm just the distraction."

There's a blast behind them and the hand gripping his throat suddenly goes slack as the owner of said hand gets shot in the back of the head. The guard slumps and Peter slumps with him and there's a terrible blur of noise and confusion going on inside the cell above him. The blow to the head combined with blood loss is making him more than a little fuzzy right now and for a second all he can do is stare up at the ceiling.

Suddenly there's something blue and angry in his face and a hand slapping his cheek roughly. "Come on, boy, get up! We gotta go!"

Peter wants to protest that he can't get up, there's a dead guard on top of him and also there's still a bullet in his leg, but the weight is removed suddenly and gravity gets weird for a second as he's jerked up off the ground.

He gasps in pain and staggers, gripping onto Yondu's shoulder like a lifeline to keep from falling over. The scene in the cell is complete carnage, dead and dying guards scattered all over the ground, and Peter is just ever so slightly horrified at how quickly all of that occurred.

Yondu reaches down and grabs one of the guards guns, shoving into Peter's hand. "Yer gonna need this," he tells him simply, shouldering two more weapons as he speaks.

Peter holds the gun in weak, boneless fingers and he holds onto Yondu and he wobbles and nearly falls over again. He's bleeding and dizzy and his head just got slammed against a brick wall and overall he's just not having a great time. "Where're we goin'?" he asks and the words all tumble together in a weird combination of syllables that doesn't make a lot of sense.

"Get the others an' get outta here," the captain tells him, tightening his grip on the swaying Terran beside him. "Which is gonna be a helluva lot harder to do if ya can't stay upright, Quill," he grumbles and the words seem harsh but they're layered in concern and desperation.

"Can't stand," Peter mumbles drunkenly and he can feel blood trickling through his hair and down the back of his neck. "Definitely can't run…"

The Ravager captain growls in frustration and sighs. "Well I ain't leavin' yer sorry ass behind so I guess I'm just gonna have'ta carry you."

Peter opens his mouth to protest but the words never have a chance to come out as he's roughly maneuvered and then draped gracelessly over Yondu's shoulder like a sack of sand. "Watch my back and make sure we're don't get shot from behind, boy," the captain orders and he straightens with Peter on his shoulder.

"And don't you dare throw up on me or I'll make ya sleep in the supply closet for a month." And with that final cheery warning, he takes off down the hall with a gun in one hand and Peter draped over his shoulder.

The prison is actually much smaller than it seems from the outside and it only takes a few seconds to get from one cell block to the other. Or maybe it takes longer than that and Peter's sense of time is skewed thanks to his head being slammed against a wall; either way they're suddenly across the prison and making their way to the next section of cells.

The remaining guards have turned out in droves and it seems like they're everywhere at once but miraculously none of their bullets meet their mark. Peter manages to take out a couple from his awkward position but Yondu takes out easily twice as many in the same amount of time. Normally Peter would be a little bitter about the score but he's trying really hard not to get shot again or throw up so he has other things on his mind.

They reach the next block of cells and suddenly their numbers double. Peter isn't really sure when that happened exactly; there's a pretty significant time lapse between one moment and the next (thanks blood loss) but all at once the other Ravagers are released and gathered together in a tight clump in the corridor. Weapons are gathered from the fallen guards and they form ranks and move on to the next wing of the prison.

Peter is pretty sure he blacks out again because the next thing he knows they're all barricaded in one large room of the prison, shouts and curses filling the room all around them. He's slumped up against a wall, bloody and dirty and all around miserable. Someone has taken his gun and he's mildly offended at first before he realizes he wouldn't be able to shoot properly right now anyway and it's probably for the best.

Someone pats him on the shoulder and he rolls his head to one side to see Yondu crouched beside him. "You still with me, boy?" he asks and if Peter didn't know any better he'd say the captain looked relieved. He's pretty sure he has a concussion though so he blames it on that.

"Yup," he hears himself mutter instead and yeah, he kinda feels like he wants to die but he's definitely not dead yet.

"Good, keep it that way," Yondu tells him, reaching out and patting his hand against the center of Peter's chest. "We're gettin' outta here real soon, just gotta keep our new friends from gettin' through that door before the ship gets here and…"

Peter tries to pay attention, he really does, but his level of consciousness is shifty at best at the moment and loses track of everything for a few minutes after that. He jolts awake a few moments (hours? How long was it?) later to the sound gunfire and shouting and he vaguely wonders if they're all about to get killed.

Someone grabs him, someone blue, and he's picked up again and lifted off the ground. He's not sure what's happening anymore, only that he's being carried somewhere else, maybe somewhere not as loud. He sighs, closes his eyes, and lets the world fade away again.

OOOOO

"'Ey," a loud, sharp voice cuts through his subconscious like a whipcrack. "You gonna sleep all day or are you gonna get off yer lazy ass an' get back to work?"

Peter frowns and opens his eyes, blinking in confusion up at the ceiling. He fully expected to see the bars of the cell or the prison ceiling or something else indicating he was still in the cell. Actually, he was fully expecting to be dead. But nope, neither of those things appeared to be true at the moment and instead he was in the medical wing of the Ravager ship.

He tips his head over to the side and sees Yondu slouched in a chair beside the bed, arms crossed over his chest and crooked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "'Bout time you woke up. I was about to lose my bet."

"The hell…?" Peter hears himself mutter, voice croaky and a little thin. "How'd we get back here?"

"I carried you," the Ravager captain replies simply, leaning back in the chair. "The cavalry arrived just about the time ya passed out again so I scooped ya up an' hauled yer lazy carcass back to the ship."

He nods toward a metal tray next to the bed and Peter just now realizes there's a bloody bullet in the middle of it. "Pulled the bullet outta yer leg and got ya patched up. You've been laid up in here for a few hours now. Few'a the boys had a bet goin' about how long you'd be out. Looks like they owe me thirty units."

Peter smirks faintly and shakes his head. It hurts and it makes the whole room feel like it's wobbling and he's infinitely grateful that he's laying down right now. He glances down at the blankets covering his lower body and can feel the tight press of bandages across his leg. The wound still hurts, a deep, throbbing ache that pierces all the way to the bone, but it's not as intense as it was before. He chalks it up to being pumped full of painkillers and a cocktail of other drugs he doesn't know the name of.

"How long am I stuck here?" he asks finally, trying to sit up a bit and failing. He's still dizzy and woozy from the combination of head injury and blood loss so maybe moving wasn't such a great idea just yet.

"Couple days, at least," Yondu tells him with a vague, flippant wave of his hand. "Got the bullet out but it tore up a buncha muscle tissue that needs to heal; didn't hit the bone though. Also you bled like a stuck pig an' got that hard head'a yers racked against a wall so it's prob'ly best for you to stay in here for another day or two."

He fixes Peter with a loose glare. "But don't think I'm goin' soft on ya, boy. The second you get outta this bed it's right back to work, ya understand me?"

Peter smirks a little. "Aye, aye, cap'n."

"Good," Yondu grumbles, slumping back against the chair again. He looks like he has something else to say but weighs whether he should actually say it or not. "And Quill?"

Peter blinks at him.

"By gettin' those keys ya saved our asses back there, boy," the captain tells him, leveling his crimson eyes on the bed bound Terran. "And don't think for one second that we ain't grateful for that but the next time you decide to make yerself the distraction and nearly get yerself killed in the process I'm gonna kick yer ass myself, understand?"

Peter nods once in understanding, slumping back against the mattress a bit more.

"Good," Yondu says again with a small, satisfied nod. "I respect the balls ya got, kid, but that don't mean I enjoy watchin' ya get hurt. I raised you since you was a pup so you best believe that if anyone's got a right to kick yer ass it'll be me an' no one else. Got it?"

"Got it," Peter replies with a small smile.

That earns him another small nod and the captain crosses his arms back over his chest. "Now go to sleep. The longer ya stay awake the longer it'll take that leg to heal an' I ain't keepin' ya on this ship if you ain't workin'."

Peter smirks, nods once, and closes his eyes.

Thanks for reading guys! More to come soon!