This chapter is using the title, "Bitter Water" By the Oh Hello's. I originally picked it for the way it suited Peter's feeling towards Gamora right now, and then It worked out great just as a title with the events in the chapter.
As usual, this is purely for entertainment and I do not own GotG or it's characters.
More notes at the bottom or at my tumblr; Therearemonstersinthedark
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Chapter 12: Bitter Water
The waking world returned slowly, and brought with it a pounding in his skull and a dull ache in his bones. He had dreamed again, of something grasping for him as he fled in a blinding panic through colorful galaxies and stars that all blurred into bright smears as he passed. It was always so close, fingers brushing up the back of his neck as he pumped his legs until his lungs were on fire and threatening to burst. His heart was still hammering against his ribs even as the terror slipped away with his memories of the dream, and soon he could not recall what exactly he had been so frantic to escape.
As his senses returned, he became aware, first, of the very cold and very hard floor that he was laying on. His T-shirt provided no protection from the chill that seeped up into his body, and a frostseemed to have formed in his joints. Next, he became aware of the flecks of rust on the bars drifting in and out of focus in front of his face. It was hard to tell between the poor light and the way they refused to sit still long enough for him to pick out the finer details, but they seemed to be made of a dull grey metal. Some of the bars were covered in scrapes and dents as though something very powerful and probably very, very angry had tried to hack its way out.
For a while he entertained himself with thoughts of who they were and how they had escaped. Any attempts at deeper thoughts slipping away like fish through his hands.
In time, his heart slowed to a less alarming rate and between the beats he made out the sound of someone else breathing behind him. With Herculean effort he managed to roll himself onto his back, discovering in the process that his hands were once again bound behind his back, this time with some sort of thick chain that dug into his hip and connected to a heavy ring that was bolted to the floor of the cell behind him. In the half-light, he made out the hulking form of Drax. The maniac was only a body length or so away, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands dangling limply between them where they were bound by their own pair of cuffs and chain. His head was bowed and his back pressed against the back wall of the room they were in.
"Drax?" Peter croaked out. No answer came immediately, and at first he thought the man to be asleep, but then, slowly, he lifted his head to meet Peter with a cold gaze that made him have to swallow a lump in his throat.
"Do you see where your foolishness has led us?" he growled out. "Your assassin has betrayed us all and sold us out to her master, just as I feared."
Peter had no rebuttal to that and turned his eyes away. As his ability focus on single objects returned, he searched the rest of the room, or what he could see without having to move too much. Drax and himself seemed to be in a corner cell. Two of the walls and the ceiling were comprised of the same dark frigid metal that he was laying on, and the other two were made up of the dented metal bars. It took him three tries, but he managed to count out four cells on each side of an open hallway in the middle, so eight in total. The one he was in was pretty large as far as cells went, his prone form making up about a third of the length of one of the walls. At either end of the hallway was a heavy metal door, the close one looked significantly bigger and sturdier than the one on the far side.
In the cell next to them was Groot, hardly visible between the shadows and the thick bars. He was curled again into a ball, looking desolate and defeated. It appeared that in subduing him, his arms had both been hacked off, and a strange device had been affixed to his chest and shoulders. It vaguely resembled a pair of frisbees covering where his arms would typically regenerate from, but the rings of soft red light gave off a sinister air that he had never found before in the kid's toy, and it was likely that they were there to halt any attempts to regrow his limbs.
The room didn't have much else to offer beyond that. A number of what appeared to be lights were set into the ceiling, but only a few of them were on, giving out the dim lighting that they were sitting in now. There appeared to be a vent of some sort in the roof of his cell, much too small for Rocket to have fit through, even if he were here, and a dip in the floor in the back corner that was shared with Groot's cell that was probably a drain.
Judging by the solid metal walls and flooring, they were probably on a ship, but it was honestly just a wild guess at this point. He was pretty sure he wasn't on the Dark Aster, but with an entire universe of other possibilities, that didn't tell him much.
They were down there a long time before anything of interest happened. Peter was working through counting the bars in his cell for the fourth time when the lights suddenly brightened with an audible click. Peter groaned and rolled away from the bright lights, screwing up his stinging eyes and really wishing he could cover them with his arm.
There was the rattling of a chain sliding across the floor as Drax stirred, followed by the swish of the heavy door at the close end of the hallway sliding open.
The room had long since stopped spinning, and Peter rolled to his knees to watch as Gamora herself entered the room to stand in front of his cell. The sting of her betrayal was still sharp in his chest as she stared down at him through the bars. The bandages he had given her just a day or so before had been removed, replaced with a new set of bracers. The thin,pale line of a fading scar peeking out from underneath and wrapping up her left arm was the only evidence that the injuries had ever occurred. One hand rested on the hilt of the Godslayer, once more strapped to her hip.
"How did you...?" He didn't want to finish that sentence, afraid of the answer.
"Relax." Gamora seemed to understand his fear, a smile curling the corners of her lips. "It was easy enough to steal back and slip away. Those ravagers and their 'Eclector' can pay for their crimes against my father later. For now they are hardly a priority of mine."
He knew she was not-so-subtly threatening him with their eventual deaths, but he was actually just relieved to learn that she had not slaughtered them on her way out. The ravagers were tough and resourceful, and if anyone could keep them safe it was Yondu.
"I am here for another reason." Slender green fingers wrapped around a bar as she leaned closer. "The Infinity Stone. Where is it?"
Peter just blinked back, momentarily confused. As far as he knew, it should still be stored away on the Milano. The fact that Gamora hadn't found it meant that Nebula must have stolen it before slipping away. Any annoyance he might have felt at her sneaking behind his back was crushed under the wave of relief that Thanos did not have it back. Peter just shrugged his shoulders, seeing no reason to tell her anything.
"Hiding it from me is not a wise course of action, Star-lord." She spat out his name like a curse word. "If I have to, I will rip that ravager ship and every last crew member apart, bolt by bolt and limb by limb, until I find it. That centaurian isn't the only one who can use a tracer. I can track them down in a matter of hours if I need to."
"Be at ease, Gamora," a new voice soothed from the doorway. Someone that Peter didn't recognize stepped into sight to place a pale bony hand on her shoulder. He was tall and almost wispy, with a sunken grey skin and huge watery eyes that made his face closely resemble a skull. Impossibly deep black robes draped over his form, with a gold and white panel that fell down his front and back, and wrapped around his collar. Despite the heavy resemblance to a frail old man, something in the back of Peter's mind was screaming that this man was dangerous. "No doubt the stone is wherever your sister has scurried off to. We will find it when we retrieve her, and Thanos can do with them both as he will. Lost trinkets and wayward children always find their way home."
Gamora relaxed at his touch and settled back from the bars slightly.
"Of course, Ebony Maw," she murmured.
"Please, Gamora, call me brother. With this latest triumph of yours, it will be no time at all before you take your place in the Black Order."
Gamora's eyes lit up and her back straightened at his praise, while Peter narrowed his own eyes. Black order? What the heck was a Black Order? And who was this Ebony Maw guy? Another one of Thanos' children? Whoever he was, he gave Peter the creeps. The stranger turned his attention to Peter, then. Huge watery eyes shining like a cat's and seeming to change color as they moved.
"And you must be Star-lord. We've been looking for you for such a long time, it's a pleasure to finally meet in the flesh." His voice was low and soft, like a lullaby. "Tell, me, Star-lord, how did you come upon this name of yours?"
"My-my mother." He found himself answering without thinking. "She used to call me her little Star-lord." Those huge eyes seemed to be pulling him in.
"Leave the weak-minded fool alone." Drax's harsh voice broke through the spell and pulled him back into the present.
"Ah, Drax the Destroyer." The man didn't look the least bit upset about the interruption. Those heavy eyes released him to regard Drax like an old friend, and Peter felt like he could breath a bit easier outside of their gaze. "En Dwi Gast has missed you, in your absence from his games. He will, no doubt, be relieved at the news of your return."
"He will soon be relieved of his head as well," Drax snorted back.
"Oh, Drax," Ebony maw chuckled. "You are always such a pleasure. A pleasure that must be cut short today, I am afraid."
"Our father will be hailing us momentarily, and I thought it might be prudent to include you in this debriefing." His bony hand slipped from Gamora's shoulder to fold neatly with his other as he turned for the door. "Say your goodbyes and join us on the bridge. Sister."
Gamora watched him leave with an unreadable expression.
"Gamora?" Peter asked tentatively. "Why are you doing this? You were free."
She whipped her head around to regard him with a filthy look.
"I do not need the likes of you to free me. We are not friends, and you should stop acting like we are."
"If I mean so little, why not just kill me when you had the chance?" he demanded, she hadn't killed any of them, she had to be playing some sort of long con here, right? He knew her. Senseless violence, these cold threats, it was all so wrong. "I know you care. About your friends, the galaxy. He murdered your parents, Gamora, how can you just stand there?"
"I don't know where you are getting this information, Star-lord. Whether you made it all up in your mad dreams or my sister has played a cruel trick on you, but Thanos did not murder my parents. He saved them. And as soon as I deliver you and take my rightful place in the Black Order I can ensure their safety under his rule forever."
Peter blinked owlishly up at her. Nothing she was saying was making any sense.
"As for why you are still breathing, we are all under very strict orders to apprehend you alive," she informed him coldly. There was a cruel glint in her eyes as she leaned in to continue. "I lied about that rodent on Halfworld. I know experiment 89P13 very well - my father's favorite little attack dog- and he is no doubt paying very dearly for that stunt he pulled, firing a lethal weapon at you."
"What?" he gasped, dumbstruck, but she was already turning away towards the exit. "Wait! Gamora! You said he'd be fine!" Peter screamed, leaping after her only to hit the end of the chain and fall back down, smacking his knees painfully against the unforgiving floor. "Come back! Gamora!"
But she didn't look back, the swish of her hair was the last thing he could make out as the door slid shut behind her and the lights dimmed.
"Do you never learn?" Drax grunted in disgust.
"I guess I don't," he sighed, feeling suddenly very tired again. "Who was that man?"
"He is known as Ebony Maw. A member of Thanos's Black Order. A cowardly, sniveling man who specializes in warping the minds of..." He trailed off as he regarded Peter through narrowed eyes.
"...of weak minded fools, yeah, I get it." Peter hauled himself to his feet and moved to sit against the back wall with Drax. There, he struggled to maneuver his bound hands in front of himself in a move that the ravagers had taught him back when he was a child helping with their smuggling outfits. The cast made things a bit more complicated and for a bit he thought he would be trapped with one leg half-through his arms until their captors returned. With some creative contorting and cursing he eventually managed to get his hands in front of himself and slumped against Drax's arm. His head was still spinning from everything he had just learned, so he hugged his knees to his chest and pressed his forehead against them.
"Nothing here makes sense," he whispered. "We have to get out of here."
"Look around, Peter Quill," Drax snorted so hard that Peter could feel his hot breath against his arms, "there is no getting out. You will be delivered to Thanos for whatever he has planned for you, I will be returned to Sakaar where I will await my inevitable honorless death, and the tree will return to... whatever the tree had been doing on that Halfplanet."
"I am Groot," the colossus groaned from the other cell.
"Don't worry Groot. I'm not letting them take you back there."
From next to him, Drax just huffed again and rolled his eyes, obviously unconvinced by Peter's poorly faked confidence. He knew that Drax was right. They were trapped, bound and chained, in a cell guarded by Thanos's favorite children. No one would be looking for them; the Milano was scheduled to leave as soon as she could fly, so Yondu wouldn't be the least bit surprised to find them all gone before morning, and the only person who could possibly know where they were or how to help was long gone. They were doomed in all ways that Peter could figure, and it was all his own D'asted fault.
-x-
He woke later, still leaning against Drax's side. The warmth radiating from the ex-gladiator's body was staving off the worst of the chill from the dark cell.
"How long was I out?" Peter asked, pulling away enough to stretch his arms forward and let out a huge yawn.
"I do not know. I dozed off myself for a bit. A few hours at least. Nothing of note has happened."
Rubbing at his eyes, Peter wondered what had been on that needle that Gamora had stabbed him with. He felt like he'd slept an entire day away, but at least this time he woke up with a much clearer head.
Speaking of sleeping the day away, his throat was feeling parched and sandy.
"I don't suppose room service has come by to take our orders yet?"
"Who is room service? And why would anyone be taking orders from the prisoners?"
Peter just smiled to himself, enjoying the fact that Drax was talking to him again.
"Well, either way. Someone's got to come through eventually, right?"
'Eventually' turned out to be several hours later by the best of Peter's estimation. His last drink had been a couple of beers back on the Eclector, and that fact wasn't doing him any favors now. His throat was getting scratchy and he was developing a nasty headache from dehydration when the lights once again hummed to life and the door slid open.
Everything suddenly came to life as a small group of guards pooled in, dressed head to toe in a black canvas and leather armor that rustled as they marched in. They each had masks that obscured their features, and not an inch of skin was showing that could give Peter any clue as to what they were.
"Hey! Peter called out. Anyone know what time it is?"
The one in the lead stopped in front of Peter and Drax's cell and swiped a card through the panel on their door, sliding the heavy door to the side so two more who were carrying trays could enter and place them on the floor. While they did this, a second pair, carrying a large shallow bucket of water between them did the same to Groot's, cell, placing the bucket down by his feet. As one, they stepped back, sliding the doors shut with a coordinated bang and swept out of the room. As quickly as they had appeared they were gone, and with them the bright lights.
"Friendly bunch," he muttered as he scooted forward to grab the tray that had been placed in front of himself. As far as prison food went, this was actually pretty nice. A sandwich that looked like something he could have ordered from one of the more upscale restaurants on Xandar, and a couple of ripe fruits. On the corner of the tray was a smooth plastic mug filled with water that was sweet and cool as he chugged it down.
"You shouldn't drink that."
Peter was mid swallow when Drax spoke and startled him into breathing some of it in. The mug slapped to the ground as he bent over to cough and hack the liquid from his lungs. His eyes were starting to water and his stomach was threatening to revolt by the time he coughed up enough to take a deep breath again.
"Why?" he rasped out between smaller coughs, hands pressed against his burning chest.
"It is likely drugged," Drax informed him. "To make you docile, and easy to manipulate. Not that you need much help with that."
Drax was still slouched against the back wall, not making a move to take his own tray.
"Yeah, well-" he paused to hack up another couple of drops caught in his throat. "I kind of need water to live-" Another cough. "And air. Water and air. How long are we going to be here?" Poisoned or not, he'd have to drink something eventually.
Drax just heaved his shoulders into a shrug. "I do not know. It could be days. It could be weeks." Peter's heart sank at the thought of being stuck here for weeks.
"Is the food drugged, too?" he asked, casting a mournful glance at the very tempting plate of food.
"More than likely," came the expected, but no less heartbreaking answer.
"Alright." Peter flopped back, wishing he had his duster, or at least his shorter jacket to use as a pillow, and stared at the blank ceiling. "So we're chained to the floor, behind some very thick bars with a keycard access, behind another solid door, guarded by at least two of Thanos's favorite children, probably drifting through the heart of enemy territory, on our way to meet Thanos himself in what could be days or weeks from now, and to top it off, nobody is looking for us, and all of our food and water is poisoned. Excellent."
It was a tribute to just how done with this Drax was that there was no answering remark about how this was all, in fact, the opposite of excellent.
-x-
With nothing but the arrival of meals to judge the passing of time by, Peter estimated that they had been there for almost three cycles by the time anyone beside the guards came down to visit them. Each cycle, as far as Peter was estimating them, consisted of three meals, the first usually something sweet that reminded him of breakfasts back on earth. They had something to the effect of fifteen minutes before the guards would return to gather their trays and, after the second meal, to escort them individually to the small door at the end of the hall that turned out to be a sparse bathroom.
On the first cycle, Peter was elated to discover that Gamora had failed to pat him down before dumping him in here, and he still had his handful of protein bars stuffed into a back pocket. It wasn't much, especially being rationed between both himself and Drax, but it was better than nothing while they were stuck down here.
On the second cycle, a bit after the breakfast meal had been collected, the lights flickered on and a series of beeping alerts filled the room just moments before water started spraying down from what Peter had thought was a vent in the ceiling. The drops were thick and within moments Peter and Drax were drenched.
"Drink." A slap on the shoulder forced him to look up from where he had curled in on himself to shield his body from the worst of the downpour. Drax was standing next to him with his head tilted upwards and his mouth held open. "This water is clean."
Forcing himself to uncurl, Peter shut his eyes against the water and managed to catch a couple mouthfuls of the bitter water before it suddenly shut off again.
It was only later, when he lay shivering in the dark and pressed once more against Drax's side, playing with his now very damp cast, that he would think to ask how Drax seemed to know so much about this place.
"I believe this is the same ship that carried me to Sakaar the first time," Drax grunted, pointing towards one of the worst of the dented bars. "I did that when one of the other cellmates reacted poorly to the poison and fell ill. The guards refused to give aid and their death was slow, and agonizing. He was hardly more than a child."
Peter didn't ask any more questions for a while.
On the third cycle the lights came on again only a few minutes after the breakfast meal had been served and the guards returned with Ebony Maw in the lead. He tutted as he stared down at their untouched plates.
Each meal, Peter and Drax had dumped some of the poisoned water down the drain to make it appear that they had, at least, been drinking a bit. As far as Peter could tell, there were no cameras down here, but it would be a pain if they got the notion that they were using the showers to avoid drinking the drugged water and shut them off. Not that Peter would miss the freezing cold water that rained down and soaked his clothes. There was really no point in even pretending to have eaten the food, though.
The strange old man made no comment, however, just waving a hand impatiently at a guard who quickly stepped forward to unlock the cell door. Two more followed him in, grabbing Peter by the arms and hauling him to his feet.
"What are you doing?" Drax demanded, leaping to his own feet and advancing on the guards, but the guards were holding Peter just out of his reach.
"Do not concern yourself so, Drax," Ebony Maw sighed, eyes not leaving Peter, who was struggling to avoid his haunting gaze, and instead focus on how the guards unhooked the chain from his cuffs. "He will be returned shortly."
The guards dragged him out of the cell and towards the doorway, and Drax let out an angry scream, straining against his own chain.
"Whole, and alive. You have my word," Ebony promised in a voice that sent a chill down Peter's spine. He sent a desperate look over his shoulder. Drax looked outright furious, and Groot had moved for the first time since Peter had awoken down here to stand at the edge of his own cell, but neither of them could do anything as the door slid shut between them.
-x-
Ebony Maw led the way down a series of winding corridors in no particular hurry. The further they got from the holding cells, the nicer things seemed to become. Around the fourth corner the metal floor turned into carpet and little gold sconces let out a soft warm glow. The plush footing felt out of place for a ship, and muffled the guard's boots as they marched behind him.
Two corners later revealed a long hallway which must have run the edge of the ship, one wall was comprised of a massive window which ran beyond what he could see in either direction. The view outside was so spectacular that Peter actually stopped in his tracks to gape openly at the swirling galaxies that drifted by in a rainbow that sparkled with winking stars. Huge asteroids, dwarfed by the distance between them, drifted across the canvas, covered in shimmering crystals of ice that left him dazzled.
A hard shove to his back forced him to keep moving, but his eyes remained trained on the breathtaking view for the whole length of their march down the hallway, and when they turned away to follow a path that led them deeper into the ship, he felt saddened at its loss.
"The asteroid fields of the Belle Ame Galaxies are a sight to behold, aren't they?" Ebony Maw's voice rang out from the head of the procession.
"Belle Ame?" Peter asked before he could remind himself not to be taken in by this strange man's hypnotizing words.
"Yes, it means 'beautiful soul.' A lovely name, but quite ironic, in that not a single soul resides within them. Wouldn't you agree?"
Peter kept his eyes trained on his boots and gave a non-commital grunt in his best Drax impression. A breathy laugh floated back to him.
"Oh, come now, Star-lord. You needn't look so scared. I mean you no harm. Drax can be a bit, over-dramatic. I can hardly blame him; after all, he had just lost his home and his people. It is no surprise he holds such bitter memories of his time here."
"He was a prisoner. Is a prisoner." Despite himself, Peter was being drawn into a conversation.
"He was a prisoner long before he came to Oasis. We merely cared for him for a while."
"Some care," Peter huffed. Days of dehydration and hunger giving him a short temper. "Our food and water are poisoned."
"Poisoned?" Ebony Maw hadn't turned back to look at Peter as they marched onward, but Peter could practically hear the smile on his face. "Drax's word, I'm sure. It is merely a light sedative to ease our guest's journey. They are often panicked and distressed when they come to us, which can lead to them causing all manner of harm to themselves or to our crew. While I myself might be inclined to forgive the occasional bruise or battery on my guards as an... occupational hazard, my lord has made it very clear that such uprisings are not to be encouraged, and must be dealt with in a very specific manner. A little bit of a foggy mind is hardly an unreasonable price to pay to avoid such cruelties."
Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, failing to find the words he needed. He knew he didn't agree with Ebony's logic, but couldn't form an answer that sounded half as reasonable.
"You let that prisoner die. The one who had a reaction to your sedatives," he finally said, raising his head triumphantly as he clung to his irrefutable evidence of his evil.
"We hardly just 'let' him die," Ebony's voice softened and his shoulders drooped down just the barest hint as though he truly were regretful. "That poor child was in such pain, but when my guards tried to treat him, they were attacked and driven away. They could do nothing but watch as his fellow prisoners refused to allow him aid and he eventually succumbed to his sickness. As I said, our guests are often distressed and not inclined to be at their most reasonable in a place like this."
It was obvious that Peter's foggy brain wasn't going to be winning any arguments here, so with Drax's stern warning to avoid conversation with the man heavy on his mind, he held his mouth shut and admitted defeat for now.
The hallway ended abruptly with an elevator that was big enough to allow them all to stand comfortably, with room to spare. The ceiling and walls were covered in well-polished mirrors, giving it an even roomier effect and allowing Peter to get a good look at himself on the way up. Thanks to the freezing cold shower, he was actually relatively clean, but a dark shadow ghosted across his jaw where he had been struck by Nebula back on the Milano. It had obviously once been a pretty impressive bruise, but now the blood was beginning to fade and pool along his jawline. At a distance, one might not even notice it under the three-day's worth of not shaving.
Dark circles were forming under his eyes, and faint shadows were visible under his cheekbones. Both sat stark against his pale complexion under the cheery white lighting.
They rode the elevator up in silence. A tiny ding announced their arrival at wherever they were going and the doors slid open to reveal a long elegant hallway. The walls were a polished ivory and the carpet a deep rich crimson with traces of gold swirling through it like smoke.
A set of gold doors stood open down the hallway to the right and Ebony Maw lead them straight through, the guards pulling the doors shut behind them and removing the shackles from Peter's wrist before moving to stand in the corners. As Peter flexed his hands and looked around the first thing he noticed was the table in the center of the room, set with two plates of what resembled pancakes, a big bowl of fresh fruits in the center and pitchers of juice and water set to either side.
"Please," Ebony Maw moved to the far side, gesturing with one long-fingered hand to the chair on Peter's side as he slid his own out, "take a seat."
Still thoroughly confused, Peter did as he was told. The plush seat was a welcome break from days of sitting on freezing metal, and the smell that wafted up from the freshly cooked food was making his mouth water and his stomach squirm.
Across the table, Ebony Maw took his silverware up in his delicate hands and cut a small slice of his own not-a-pancake, popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly with a smile. Peter was pretty sure his stomach was ready to crawl up his own throat and abandon him.
"Please, eat. The food here is absolutely exquisite. Our cooks really outdo themselves."
"No thanks," Peter forced out, the words bitter on his parched tongue. Ebony just responded with an easy laugh.
"I assure you. It is not, 'poisoned' as Drax would say. Here, you may have mine if you wish." He picked up his own plate to offer it over.
"No, that's fine."
Thanos's son relented with a small shrug as though it didn't matter to him either way, taking another bite before pouring himself a glass of the ruddy juice.
"At least have some Ohchrie Juice. It's hard to think straight when one is dehydrated, and the water from the showers is hardly a proper source." Another chuckle escaped his lips when he saw Peter's shocked expression. "Yes, I know all about Drax's little trick, but as long as you are not causing any upset, I do not see what harm it can cause."
Sulking, and feeling a bit like a kid who had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar, Peter went ahead and poured himself a glass from the same pitcher Ebony Maw had used. Even if it was drugged, it probably didn't matter at this point. After the juice didn't cause him to grow dizzy or fall over foaming at the mouth, he picked up his own utensils and took a small bite of his food. He could practically hear a chorus of angels as the sweet taste washed over his tongue. It might just be the starvation talking, but this was the best pancake-like food he had ever tasted.
Peter was struggling to pace himself, and for a while his host seemed content to just eat in silence. About half-way through their meal, when Peter's head was feeling a bit clearer, he looked up to notice that the other man had stopped eating and set his tools aside to fold his hands neatly on the table in front of himself and was watching Peter with quiet interest.
Feeling suddenly self-conscience, Peter swallowed his last bite and set his own utensils aside to sit back and meet his gaze.
"Well," Ebony started, seeming to perk up now that he had Peter's attention. "Now that we can both think clearly, why don't we move on to why I have invited you up here?"
Ah. There was the other shoe. Peter just hoped that as it came down, he wouldn't be crushed underneath it.
"Alright," Peter sighed, sitting up straighter. "Let's get the interrogation over with."
"Interrogation? Oh, no, nothing like that! I am sure that Thanos will have many questions for you upon our arrival, but this meeting is more... off-the-record, as it were."
"Off-the-record?" Peter questioned.
"Yes. You see, Thanos is our most beloved father, and a wonderful leader, but he can get so caught up in the bigger picture, that some of the finer details and... opportunities, can slip through the cracks. That is where the Black Order comes in. That's where I come in. From the sounds of it, at the end of this journey, you will have outlived your use, and Thanos is not one for keeping unnecessary clutter."
Peter swallowed thickly as he wondered again how long this 'journey' would be.
"It seems like such a waste to me. You strike me as a creature of reason, and I thought perhaps we could discuss the possibility of a future under his rule. A very long one."
"You want me to join the Black Order?"
Ebony Maw seemed to lose his composure for a moment to another burst of laughter, the loudest one yet, but he recovered a moment later, wiping at the corner of his eyes with a flutter of his hands.
"Oh no. Ahem. I am afraid nothing quite so grand- at least not right away. Certainly, if you worked hard and showed considerable promise, you could eventually be considered for a place among his most elite, though." He was still chuckling as he spoke. "You already have the ambition, it seems."
"Thanks, but, um, I don't really see myself working for a Warlord," Peter replied, surprised at the lack of sarcasm he heard in his own voice.
"Warlord? Well that's quite a small-minded way of putting it. Look around you. The universe is falling into chaos. So many factions, so many governments, always in conflict against each other. Since the first dawn, the universe has never known anything but war, and as our technology to traverse them expands, we are only met with more brutality, more fear and ruthlessness, as every separate entity struggles to claim their own. Our father seeks to change that, to unite the galaxies under his rule. In peace.
"Imagine that. No more wars. No more genocides, or bloody mutinies. Just the galaxies, united under one ruler, all striving towards one glorious future."
"Is that really what you think he wants? Peace?" Peter snorted, keeping his eyes trained on his plate and away from the pull of those eyes and the musical lilt in his voice.
"It is. But such wondrous things as peace must always be obtained at a high price."
"Was Xandar part of that price?"
"Unfortunately, yes. The people of Xandar and the Nova Corps were so accustomed to their wild ways and ruling over their own corner of the galaxies, they would never bend to a higher power. We did make them an offer; to spare their citizens in exchange for their complete loyalty towards our cause, but Nova Prime would hear none of it. She could not fathom giving up her throne and clung to it stubbornly at the tragic cost of her people."
"You murdered them," Peter ground out, so quiet he wasn't sure he'd be heard.
"Yes. And I mourned for every soul that was lost to that woman's selfishness, but the cost of one planet pales in comparison to the lives that will be saved."
Peter's lips pulled into a frown and he moved to fiddle again with the worn edges of his cast. Out here in the brighter lighting he could see how badly the marker had blurred from the showers. The Milano's laser beams wavered and the explosions were melting into ugly dark blobs. Even Nebula's little smiling face in the corner had developed streaks which made it appear to be weeping even as it smiled on.
"I can see that you will need some time to consider what I have told you." Ebony Maw's chair slid across the carpet as he stood from the table. "I understand that it is a lot to take in, so please, take your time. I only ask that you give us a fair chance, and consider the good that you could do for the universe, the souls that you could save. Souls that could be lost if you are not there to save them."
The guards had stepped forward and grabbed him by the arms once more, pulling him to his feet. As a third one stepped in to fit his cuffs back on Ebony waved him away.
"Oh, really. I'd say those are hardly necessary any more. And as a show of good faith, I will see to it that your food and water remain... untainted for the remainder of this trip. Now that we have been more properly introduced, I do not believe you to be a danger to my crew, and I am sure neither Thanos nor En Dwi Gast will be too pleased if their guests show up half-starved and delirious from dehydration."
"Thanks." The word slipped out before Peter even realized it, and as the guards guided him from the room and back the way he'd come he found himself worrying over the fact that he had just sincerely thanked one of Thanos's children for not continuing to poison him and his friends. Despite his withered look and soft voice, the old man was definitely not someone to take lightly.
End
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Chapter 12 Preview: "...It started with a missed meal. At first, Peter had thought that time was just dragging on extra slowly that night, but hours rolled by, and his stomach made it clear that their regular dinner time had been passed. Then when breakfast arrived, it came with only half of the usual guards. The one that stayed outside of the cells had a new heavy looking rifle strapped across his back. Shortly after breakfast came the headache, a slow creeping sort of pain that started in the base of his skull and pooled between his eyes, making his vision blur..."
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So yeah, I decided to go ahead and include the Black Order in this story. It gave me some more interesting ways to expand the plot and fill a few holes that were bugging me, along with opening the door to a few other characters I was happy to include. To be honest, I don't actually know much of anything about them beyond what Wikipedia had to say, and it looks like their movie versions are going to diverge from that a bit. Unfortunately, I can't wait until May for Infinity Wars to come out, so I'm just going to do my best and pray I don't get them too bad.
I will say that the motives that Ebony Maw are quoting here are not Thanos's real purpose. A much better question, however, is whether Ebony actually believes this or is just saying what he thinks Peter needs to hear.
The ship they are on is called Oasis. In the comics, Thanos had a series of ships called Sanctuary, Sanctuary II, ect. I know I'll never keep those straight, so instead I'm going to keep his planetoid from the movie called Sanctuary, and name his ships with synonyms such as Oasis, Sanctum, Asylum, ect. If this bothers you at all, just consider it a translation error on Peter's universal translator. It's all from his perspective.
This chapter was actually originally a bit darker, but when I went back over it I decided to keep it a little lighter, more towards the movies, for now.
Thank you for reading!
[[I had a couple questions by an anonymous so I'll answer them here; If the muzzle were to be removed, Rocket could, in fact, still speak, however when it's on, his mouth is held shut so he can't. It's not a basket muzzle, more of a solid piece of metal that covers his face with some very advanced filter systems built into it. I have some drawings of it somewhere but I think they were lost when my old laptop died. Maybe I'll make some more. It will be described in more detail and be more important later. It's description in Chapter 8 got cut a bit short since Peter was basically in shock and denial over it so he didn't want to dwell on it.
As for Peter going Celestial on everyone (A few people have been asking about this!) I don't want to give too much away, but I will say that while he has the potential to do some pretty sweet stuff later on, right now his connection to the light is barely more than a thread, so he can't access or control it even if he tried. It's more like a few subtle powers and abilities he's unaware of like before Ego died; his ability to not die if he touches the stone, but he still can't really control it on his own, slightly higher healing and durability(Those bruises fade way faster than they would on a normal person), and a couple of minor things that will appear in a few more chapters if you keep your eyes open. It's going to be a main driving factor of the story, and I'm glad to see so many people are picking up on it and as excited as I am.]]
-OMaM