"Well, that was a big waste of time." Rocket sighed and dropped into the co-pilot's chair. "We went all the way to Ataxalon for nothin'!"
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Peter Quill, who preferred to go by the handle Star-Lord, said. "They did give us a nice meal to make up for the fact that the bandits were all dead by the time we got there."
"If they even existed at all," said Gamora. "Notice they didn't show us any bodies."
"The food was excellent, though," Drax pointed out.
"I am Groot." Groot was now free of his pot, standing a little taller than Rocket.
"I know they didn't give us any money!" Rocket grumbled. "I'll find us another job, one that actually pays!"
"Okay," said Peter, "everybody strap in. Ready for take-off."
A red light blinked on the console. Peter stared down at it; it wasn't anything wrong with the engines, or environmental controls, or anything else that would cause them to break down before they left orbit, so he ignored it for the time being. Besides, he couldn't read the tiny writing underneath, anyway.
Tiny writing that, when properly decoded, read CAUTION; UNKNOWN LIFE FORM DETECTED.
It was a day later that the intruder made itself known, and that was purely by accident.
Peter was rummaging through the supply cabinets looking for the last box of mac and cheese, his go-to comfort food, when he spotted something strange.
What, he thought, is this doing here?
Hidden in the back of the cabinet, behind Gamora's favorite cookies (which everyone else was forbidden to touch on pain of death), was a troll doll, just like the one he'd sealed in the orb before handing it over to Yondu. But that was impossible. There couldn't have been two of them, could there?
"What the hell?" He picked it up, and it squirmed in his hand, almost as if it were alive. With a cry of disgust, he dropped it. It skittered across the floor, changing into first a baseball and then a cassette tape with legs, and slid under the cabinet out of reach.
Peter stared at the spot where it had disappeared, mouth open slightly. "No way! No krutacking way!"
He went back upstairs, forgetting his original reason for coming down. This was too important. The others had to know.
"Polymorph?" Drax asked, his face contorted in confusion.
"I've only heard of them," Peter explained, "never seen one myself. They're supposed to be shape-changers who suck out negative emotions. Things like fear, anger, jealousy . . ."
"Yeah, none o' those on this ship," Rocket quipped. "What's it look like?"
"That's the thing. It can look like anything it wants. They have a kind of psychic connection with their victims, which they use to find the shape that will provoke the strongest negative emotion, and then they suck it out."
"And then what?"
"The only one I ever heard of belonged to an emo trader, a man who had a way to extract the emotions, bottle them, and sell them to the highest bidder. Polymorphs generally don't work alone; this one must have gotten away from the trader and stowed away aboard our ship."
"So how do we kill it?" asked Gamora.
There was a gleam in Peter's eyes. "We're not gonna kill it," he said. "I figure by now, the trader's noticed his little pet is missing. How much you figure he'd pay to get it back?"
"Aw," said Rocket, "I wanted to kill it! I ain't killed anything in months!"
"How do we capture it, then?" asked Drax. "If it can read our thoughts, it will know what we are planning. Do you have any percentage of a plan?"
"Not yet," Peter told him. "I need to do a little more research first."
It was a big risk, but he had to take it. On the one hand, the man had threatened to kill him and his whole crew over the Infinity Stone.
On the other, he was the only person Peter knew who had any actual experience with a polymorph.
Maybe he wouldn't answer the call. Maybe he was out. Maybe-
A familiar blue face filled the screen. "Boy," said Yondu, "you got some nerve."
"I know," Peter said quickly. "I owe you. Big-time. But I need a favor."
"What makes you think I'm gonna give it to ya?"
"I know you did business with an emo trader a while back. I know you know how to get in touch with the underground emo trade network. We have a polymorph loose on our ship, and I thought his owner might want him back."
The reaction was immediate. Yondu threw back his head and laughed. "Boy," he said, "I ain't pest control. You got a critter loose on yer ship, you figure out how ta deal with it!"
"He might be so grateful," Peter said, "that he gives us a reward. Which, if you help me, I'd be willing to share with you."
"Yeah? How much?"
"Twenty percent."
"That's it? Boy, when we brought you on board-"
"I know, I know, they wanted to eat me. You stopped them. How long are you gonna keep throwing that in my face?"
"Long's it takes to get it through yer thick Terran skull that you owe me more'n just twenty percent. Fifty."
"Fifty? We've gotta eat too, you know! We didn't even get paid for our last job!"
"Not my problem."
"Twenty-five."
"Guess you don't wanna get rid of it that bad."
"Fine, thirty-five."
"Forty."
Peter sighed. "All right, fine. Forty it is. Now how do I trap the thing?"
"You gotta lure it out first."
"How do I do that?"
"Think bad thoughts. It's drawn to negative emotions. You get enough o' those in one spot, it's like a dinner bell to that critter. Then you . . ."
He outlined the rest of the plan, and Peter dutifully took notes. The others wouldn't like it, but hopefully the payday would be enough to make up for it, even minus Yondu's forty percent.
Yeah, they weren't going to be happy about that, either.
"FORTY PERCENT?!"
"He wanted fifty! He wouldn't budge for less than forty!"
"But forty? Forty percent of our take goes to that madman? Pete, he tried to kill you!" Rocket was adamant. "You can't trust that pirate to be straight with you!"
"That pirate," Peter said, "raised me. I owe him a lot."
"You owe him nothing," Gamora said softly. "We can rid ourselves of this vermin without his help."
"Yeah, sure, we can do that. We can blast it into itty-bitty pieces. But if we capture it and sell it back to its owner . . . think of the riches!"
"I am Groot?"
"Where's it now?" Rocket translated.
"Ship's scan says it's down in the hold. So we need to go down there and draw it out."
"With negative emotions."
"Like you said, shouldn't be hard for this crew. Who wants to go first?"
They all looked at him. Even Groot.
"Oh, hell, no!"
Rassa frassin' bunch of ingrates, Peter thought, trying to work up a good bout of anger. My ship, dammit! Besides, I don't have half the issues they do! Well, except maybe Groot. And that Yondu! The nerve of him, charging us forty percent for a plan that probably won't even work! And even if it does, there's no guarantee that he'll be able to find the buyer and strike a deal with him. And I'm supposed to be grateful to him cause he didn't let his crew eat me?
Was it working? Was he angry enough yet?
"Here, polymorph," he called out. "Come on out, you little son of a slug. You snuck onto the wrong ship, buddy!"
Something moved in the far corner of the hold. Peter took a deep breath and summoned up feelings that he hadn't dared touch for twenty-six years.
It's all your fault, Momma! Why'd you have to go and die on me? I needed you, and you left me! Everything bad that ever happened to me happened because you died and left me all alone! You promised that my daddy would come back for me, but he never did! Cause he doesn't care about us!
It's really his fault for leaving us! Yeah, that's it! Why didn't' he stick around? What was more important than his own family? I don't even know the man's name! He's supposed to be some high galactic mucky-muck, but he can't be so great if he abandoned his wife and child! I hope you're dead, you bastard! If you're not, I just might kill you myself!
Oh, he was good and worked up now. There it was!
"Come and get me, you little-!" He spread his arms wide, inviting it in.
The thing skittered out from under the cabinet, and then it seemed to flow upward, taking shape . . .
"Come on!"
The thing solidified into a very familiar form.
"You wanna know why your daddy never came fer you?" the Yondu-clone asked. "Cause you weren't good enough for him! You sad little sack of shit! You weak, pathetic excuse for a Terran! We shoulda eaten you!"
"Shut up!" All the rage, all the anger he'd been suppressing all these years, came bubbling to the surface. "You stole me! Took me from the only home I had to be your slave! I hate you! I always hated you!"
The Yondu-thing smiled, and then a small, sucker-like tendril extended and attached itself to the center of Peter's forehead. There was a slurping sound.
"Hurry!" Rocket led the others down to the hold, but by the time they got there, the creature was gone, and Peter lay helpless on the floor.
"Hi, guys," he said, a big smile spreading on his face. "I'm just soooo happy right now! I'm gonna lie here and think about how great life is!"
"Oh, wonderful," said Gamora. "The creature's gone and he has no anger. What now?"
"We could sing songs," Peter said, as he got to his feet.
"Yeah, I don't think so."
"Another of us should attempt to draw the creature out," said Drax. "Guilt is a strong emotion, is it not?"
"Yeah, I guess-oh, hell, no!" Rocket shook his head so fast his ears bent in the wind. "If you go down, we don't have anyone stronger to overpower the thing!"
"Perhaps power is not needed here, but trickery. Which I believe is your specialty?"
"Well, when ya put it like that . . ."
"I am Groot."
"I dunno, Groot. It might not be attracted to your emotions. Let us handle it for now."
"I am Groot," which almost sounded like a sigh.
"Maybe if we all get happy," Peter said dreamily, "it'll go away! C'mon, everyone, sing with me!" And he began singing his off-key rendition of "Rainbow Connection," except that he didn't remember half the words and was forced to hum most of it.
"Someone shut him up already!" Rocket snapped.
"Well, we've scared it off now," said Gamora. "We'll try again later."
So much for Plan A. Maybe Plan B would have more luck.
Drax went to his tiny cabin and pulled from a drawer the only image he had of his wife and daughter. Sitting there looking at the faded holo, he tried to summon up feelings of guilt over their deaths, but since Ronan's death, most of the guilt had been replaced by satisfaction that the being responsible would never hurt anyone else ever again. But a small portion remained, and he nurtured this, building it into a tasty morsel to lure the polymorph out of hiding.
My fault, he thought to himself. I was not there to defend them when Ronan came. I should have been there. I let them die!
There was a small noise from the vents up above. Was it here?
"My fault," he said aloud. "I am to blame. They died because of me."
A slurping, bone-crackling noise.
"Yes," the beast said, in imitation of his beloved wife's voice. "It is your fault. Why did you leave us? Why did you let us die?"
"I . . ."
Now it became his daughter. "Don't you love us, Daddy? Why did you go away? If you'd stayed, we wouldn't have died."
Drax hung his head. "Yes. I should have stayed. It is my fault, all my-"
The creature extended its sucking tendril and slurped out his guilt before he could alert the others. When they arrived, he was sitting on the floor, the holo beside him.
"What do you idiots want?" he demanded.
"Yup," said Rocket, "it's been here. Aaaaand . . . it's gone again. Gams, you're up."
She glared at him. "Never call me that."
"Oh, come on, guys! Everything is awesome!" Peter started to sing again, but Drax jumped up and clapped a hand over the overly-happy Star-Lord's mouth.
"Enough of your foul vocalizing! If you had not let it get away the first time, we would not be in this situation! I should snap your neck for that!"
"But you won't," said Rocket hopefully, "cause we're all friends here, right? You wouldn't wanna kill a friend, would you?"
"Save it," said Gamora. "He's got no guilt. Just keep him away from Glee-Lord while I draw it out again."
"I am Groot!"
"He says we should all stick together till we catch the thing," Rocket translated. "For our own safety. He's got the . . . you know, the thing."He didn't want to say what it was in case the polymorph was listening.
"All right," she said. "Just stand back. And . . . think happy thoughts. I want to be the strongest source of negative emotions in the room. If you distract it, the plan won't work."
"Not even twelve percent of it?" Peter asked.
"Let me kill it!" demanded Drax. "If it has a neck, it can be twisted!"
"We want it alive, remember?" Rocket said. "No money for a corpse."
"Will you idiots be quiet?" Gamora looked from one to another, with fire in her eyes. "I need to concentrate!"
She sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the room and closed her eyes. What was a good emotion to draw the polymorph? It would have to be strong, to tempt its already partially sated hunger.
I just get so . . . frustrated with them all! she thought. They bicker and argue, and I never get a moment's peace! I wish I could just . . . make them go away!
There was a slurp and a crackle of bones.
"They are holding you back. Inferior life forms should not be allowed to live."
She looked up. The polymorph had assumed her father's form, and the sight filled her with both dread and anger. But which was stronger?
Pure, white-hot rage won.
"You made me a murderer!" she shouted at the Thanos-clone. "You cut me open and did terrible things to me! I will never again do your bidding! I will not hurt my friends!"
"They are not your friends! The small furry one would sell you out for the price of a cup of coffee! The large one is too stupid to be useful for anything but smashing. And the one who calls himself Star-Lord, who says he loves you? Do you think he really means these tender words? These words that he has said to so many before you? Do you really think you two can have any sort of a life together?"
"You know nothing of love! You have never loved me! When have you ever said those words to me?"
"Is she crying?" Peter whispered to Groot, who looked puzzled.
"I have never said them," the polymorph/Thanos said, "because you are not worthy of my love."
With an inarticulate cry of rage, Gamora sprang to her feet and rushed forward . . . and the polymorph's sucker attached itself to her forehead.
"Now! Hit it now!" Rocket ordered Groot. "Before it's finished feeding!"
"I am Groot!"
"She's in the way? Well, move, then! Just do it!"
Groot shuffled around to get a better angle on the polymorph, but before he could raise their secret weapon, it shrank and disappeared into the walls again. Gamora collapsed onto the floor, and Peter caught her.
"Well, I'm glad that's over!" he said. "Aren't you?"
She stared at him blankly. "Don't . . . don't touch me," she said, pulling away, and she crawled some distance away from the others, curling herself into a ball and sighing.
"Why didn't you get it when I told you?" Rocket demanded of Groot.
"I am Groot!"
"We're zero for three now! It's up to us now, buddy. When I draw it out, you gotta make sure you take it out! I don't care who's in the way! Now come on!"
They left the room in search of the creature. After a moment, Drax left as well, and then it was only Gamora, still sitting on the floor, her face in her hands, and Peter, standing there feeling awkward.
After a moment, he came up to her and got down to her level.
"Need a hug?"
She looked up at him, wetness shining on her emerald cheeks. And then she put her arms out to him.
Curiouser and curiouser, to quote Alice. And the thing was still out there. What more damage could it wreak?
Rocket and Groot trailed the thing down to the engine room, where the two of them usually bunked down.
"Okay, buddy," Rocket said, "it's down to us now. We can't screw this up. I'll draw it out; you blast it, and don't worry about me being in the way. You freeze it, we pack it up for the emo trader, we get our money."
"I am Groot."
"I know you will. Now all we need is a strong enough emotion to draw it to us. Gonna have to go for the big ones this time. Some good old-fashioned fear oughta do it. This ain't gonna be pretty, so don't panic, buddy."
"I am Groot." Groot hefted the liquid nitrogen gun and nodded. He was ready, and there would be no further mistakes. It was now or never.
Only one thing truly scared Rocket. For once, he didn't try to block out memories of the facility where he was experimented upon, but let them come.
Pain . . . blood . . . knives . . . fear! There it is! Let's work on that a little, till it's big enough to draw the creature out. Then-BAM!
He closed his eyes and tried to picture white walls and steel examining tables. Machines with lots of shiny attachments on flexible arms, ready to descend on tender flesh at a moment's notice. Needles and vials and scalpels, oh my!
It was working; he could feel something reaching into his mind, sensing the fear and trying to find the right shape to bring it to fruition. Rocket slowly opened his eyes.
One of the nameless, faceless doctors stood before him, unidentifiable instrument in hand.
"Now!" Rocket shouted to Groot. "Blast it!"
He jumped out of the way as a frosty stream of liquid nitrogen hit the beast. It writhed, changing shapes in an effort to escape the blast, but in the end, it overpowered the polymorph and froze it solid.
"I AM GROOT!" the tree hooted in triumph.
"Yeah, you did great," said Rocket. He took a moment to compose himself. Only a nightmare, only a dream.
He hit the button for the shipwide PA system. "We got it, folks. You can call its owner to come and take it home."
Two days later Yondu showed up with the emo trader, a Darbian named Kesto. The moment the Ravager captain came through the hatch, Peter was all over him.
"Heeeeeey, Yondu! It's so good to see you!" He threw his arms around his adoptive father, leaning on him heavily. "I love you, man! Have I ever told you I love you? There, I just did! I'll say it again: I love you. I love you!"
Yondu looked at the others. "Is he drunk?"
"No," said Rocket. "He's lost his anger, and now he's useless. They're all useless!"
"Call me useless one more time, rodent!" Drax thundered. "I will strip each tiny hair from your tiny body, and then eat you!"
"So you'll need an extraction?" asked Kesto.
"What's that?"
"I remove the specific emotion strands and re-insert them. It's a relatively painless process, but I will need some preparation time."
"Sure, take all the time you need."
"And my standard fee applies."
"Fee?" Rocket was indignant now. "We're returning your little pet here, and you're chargin' us for it?"
"I'll pay the damn fee!" said Yondu. "Anything to get him off me! Take it outta my forty percent."
"Fine with me."
Several hours later, the polymorph was thawed and in a containment unit, and everyone was back to their normal selves. The re-implantation of their stolen emotions had been as painless as promised, but left them with a lot of awkwardness.
"I . . . apologize," Drax said to Rocket, "for wanting to eat you. You are my friend, and I would never hurt you."
"Aw, thanks, big guy. No hard feelings."
"Hey," Peter said to Gamora, "about earlier . . ."
"We were not ourselves," she said. "Don't mention it."
"Yeah, sure."
"To anyone. Ever. Or I will kill you slowly."
"Um, okay." He smiled nervously and backed away from her slowly. "Oh, hey, Yondu. Thanks for your help."
"Glad to see yer feelin' better."
"About that . . ."
"Oh, don't worry 'bout it. Happy to help out."
"See you, man."
Kesto picked up the containment and then looked around. "Where's the other one?"
The Guardians stared at him as one. "Other one?"
"They're a breeding pair. Where one goes, the other follows."
"Oh, great." Rocket picked up Tianne, his oversized gun. "You do realize we'll have to charge you double for this?"