Peter slapped his hand against his cheek, smushing the mosquito-type insect that bit him.
"This place blows. There's not a single bar. No hot ladies," he winked when Gamora shot him a glare, "and why does it have to be SO HUMID?" He wiped his brow with the back of his wrist.
They had been walking for a couple hours now in search for a safe place to camp at night. And Peter, ever the optimist, was trying to keep the cheer despite his own tiredness and stinging injuries. Plus, he was getting sick of all the worried glances that were sent his way. He figured his pointless chatter would keep them from thinking about his "problem." He was fine. At least for the time being.
He found himself wondering why his symptoms of exhaustion and pain kept fluctuating. He wondered why they would come full force, bringing him to his knees, only to quickly flicker down and die out to a dull buzz. He hoped his next bout of misery would hold out for awhile, so they could at least make camp.
"How you feeling, Munch-Lord?" Quill looked down to see Rocket wringing out his tail, nose crinkling in disgust when drops of water dripped from the fur.
"Good. You know, I'd actually feel a lot better if you gave me some of those coco flakes or whatever you call 'em."
"Karoflax. Yeah, no way. These are my last ones, and who knows when we'll be back in the Keystone Quadrant again. Plus I ain't forgettin' the fact you ate all 'a mine last - what are you doing?"
"What?" Peter said over the mouthful of Karoflax he'd just stolen, "Sorry, couldn't hear you. 'S crunchy."
"Why you little-" Rocket fisted his little paws and looked prepared to jump on the human, before Gamora stopped them.
"Hush," she stepped forward, hand at the sword on her hip. "Something's coming."
Rocket's ears flitted back against his head, and Groot nestled closer into Drax's neck.
"Whoever it is, I can sense they do not have kind intentions." Mantis whispered.
"Hide," Peter said, motioning frantically with his arms to a thick underbrush nearby.
They hunkered down beneath the foliage, and waited with bated breath.
Heavy footfalls fell on the ground before them. Several large, green reptilian people emerged from the trees. They were tall and muscular, and their arms were incredibly long, reaching past their knees. But what grabbed Peter's attention the most was the arsenal of dangerous looking weaponry at their disposal.
"We must keep moving," the one who seemed to be the leader commanded. His voice was deep and sounded like gravel.
Peter found himself wondering why a group of male Badoon were wondering around by themselves, away from the fight. From what he knew, the people of Moord sought after battle any chance they had. But these... maybe these were the dissenters they were hoping to find.
It wasn't a risk Peter was keen on taking.
He tried to settle the debate in his mind, when one of the more ugly Badoon spoke, "Do you smell that?" He rasped, a grin forming on his distorted face, "Blood."
Peter's heart dropped.
The leader raised his head, nostrils flaring. "Whatever species it is has never traversed our lands before." He stepped forward, looking around. His eyes narrowed as he looked into the brush the Guardians were hiding in. They didn't breathe.
Suddenly, his long scaly arm reached into the leaves and pulled Rocket out by his scruff.
There was a flurry of movement as the Guardians leapt from their hiding place, weapons pointed at the group of Badoon.
"You flarkin' bastard, let me down!" Rocket growled, snapping his teeth and squirming in his captor's hold.
"Put him down now, and we won't kill you." Peter's blasters were aimed directly at the leader, vibrating with energy.
The creature smiled. "And who might you be?"
"We're people you really don't wanna mess with," his finger itched to pull the trigger.
The leader studied each of them carefully, yellow eyes piercing, yet highly intelligent. Peter couldn't help but feel a sense of recognition as those eyes looked him up and down. The creature smiled.
He set Rocket down gently on the ground, who scurried towards his team. He found his gun, and charged it up before aiming directly at the alien's head.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't blow your head off right now." Rocket growled.
The leader held up his hands in a placating manner. "We mean you no harm. We are in the midst of a war, you see. We must show caution when encountering strangers in our land." He stepped forward, extending his hand to Peter, "Czar-Doon. My pleasure."
Peter glanced from the hand up to Czar-Doon's face. Why was that name so familiar?
"It's been a long time, young Peter Quill."
Peter's eyes widened, "You..."
"Former crew member under Ravager Captain Yondu Udonta, at your service." He pulled his hand back, and gave a curt nod of his head. That off-setting smile was still plastered on his face.
"How..?" Peter was flabbergasted.
"I was there the day Yondu fetched you from Terra. Only shortly thereafter I left to pursue my own path," his voice softened, "I heard about what happened to the dear Captain. I am truly sorry."
Peter's mouth opened and closed. He vaguely remembered the creature standing before him. At the time Peter was so new to the world beyond Earth. He was more concerned about not getting eaten than some quiet Badoon. He could hardly recall Czar-Doon even leaving.
"Allow me to introduce you to my new crew," he motioned with his hand to the particularly fearsome looking Badoon that sniffed them out. "This is L'Matto, my right hand." The alien smirked, jagged yellow teeth peeking out between thin lips. "And this is Droom, Drang, and Yur." The last one he introduced seemed to still be in his adolescence. He looked to the ground shyly.
"Why'd you leave?" Peter asked, unsure of what to think.
"Well, most likely for the same reason that you left," Czar-Doon said, "I wanted to go my own way, find my own team. I've made many... interesting acquaintances over the years, as I'm sure you have. There were no hard feelings between Udonta and I when I left."
"Then why are you here, now, on your war torn planet?" Gamora intoned, her sword still hovering in front of her.
"We no longer associate with the Brotherhood of Moord. We simply came here to salvage a precious artifact before these heathens destroy it in their pathetic war." He said with obvious disgust. The other Badoon nodded their heads. "Now might I ask, why are you here, young Quill?"
Gamora spoke for him, "We are on a mission to relay important information to the leaders of Moord. Our business is our own."
"Fair enough," Czar-Doon nodded. "I might be able to help you in this venture. I do not have access to the leaders themselves, but I do know the locations of their secret outposts, as I was once an army General myself."
"What have you to gain from helping us?" Drax moved forward, his knives gleaming in the dying sunlight.
"Nothing, to be completely honest with you. The royal outposts are on the way to our next destination. It would be no trouble for us to assist an old friend."
"How do I know we can trust you?" Peter questioned.
"You don't. But I understand you are running low on options. I am offering you safe passage. As soon as we arrive, we will part ways. But that, my friend, is up to you."
The Guardians looked to Peter. He didn't like the idea of relying on others to complete a mission. But Czar-Doon was right. They were out of options. They had no ship, no way to escape the planet. They had absolutely no direction. And it would be only hours until Peter had another one of his episodes. As much as it hurt his pride to admit it, there was no other choice.
"Fine," he said, lowering his blasters. The Guardians followed suit. "But if you try to pull anything, we will kill you."
Czar-Doon smiled, "Understood. You take much after Yondu. I'm sure he would be very proud."
Peter felt a pang of sadness, but quickly pushed it away. He nodded to his team, and they followed the newcomers into the trees.
He couldn't get that smile out of his head.
