The most annoying thing about being a freelancing galaxy-wide hero-for-hire is the very small problem of where to get money.

As Peter sat in great melancholy at a secluded table near the back of the bar, nursing a headache from the last run-in he had had with a Kree who didn't particularly like the look of his face, he lamented the current thickness, or lack thereof, of his wallet to himself.

Not many people wanted to hire a hero. It was easier to do all the hero-work oneself, most likely, and that left the little guys, like him, who honestly had nothing else to do, out in the cold. Either that, or back with the Ravagers.

Bleh. Yondue and his gang may have decided not to eat him, but that didn't make him any more grateful to them. Distractedly, he hummed to himself, as he tapped his fingers on the table, until a shadow fell across the table.

Quickly, he pulled off his headphones, and looked up to see what the cause of this blocked light was, to see a tall, thin man, with dark hair, and piercing emerald green eyes, standing over him with an expectant look on his face, and a plate in his hands.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Peter wondered. "Couldn't hear you."

"I asked if this seat was taken." The man responded, his rich baritone voice, surprisingly, not gratin against his headache.

"Oh, uh, no, go ahead." Quill nodded at the chair, and the man sat down, his entire aura radiating power and confidence. Whoever this guy was, he knew what he was doing, and he was probably something important. "Peter Quill, hero-for-hire." He introduced himself.

"You can call me Sky-Treader." The man replied shortly, beginning to cut the steak on his plate. He was obviously rich, too, since it wasn't easy to pay for a quality meal, like this. Perhaps he had business for Quill.

"Sky-Treader?" He wondered. "Like Luke Skywalker, or something?"

The man glanced up sharply. "…No." He replied. "If you must know, it was a title bequeathed to me by my companions. I daresay, it's a far better name than 'Peter Quill'."

"Peter Quill's my real name." Peter huffed, insulted.

Sky-Treader chuckled lightly. "You're an amateur, then. You can't travel around the galaxy by your real name, and expect to get anything done."

"Really?"

"Of course not." Sky-Treader smirked, stabbing a chunk of meat with his fork. "First of all, it's not exactly safe. Secondly, as a hero, you have the ability to call yourself whatever you'd like, and you're going with your real name, when it's as stupid a name as that? Honestly, the only thing you'll ever be hired to do is deal with porcupine invasions."

Despite the criticism, Peter couldn't help but grin at this mental image. "Any suggestions, then?"

"Something catchy." Sky-Treader shrugged. "Have you any special powers, or anything?"

Peter mutely shook his head.

"Any large accomplishments that have given you renown?"

Another negative answer.

"You really don't have much going for you…" Sky-Walker hummed. "Any childhood nicknames you could twist to sound memorable?"

Peter shrugged. "Well, my mom would call me Star-Lord."

Sky-Treader's face lit up. "That's not half-bad…"

"No kidding?"

"None." Sky-Treader smiled. "You could go by that."

"Huh." Peter nodded, glad that his new friend approved. "So, where are you from, Sky-Treader?"

The man, shook his head, and pushed aside his now-empty plate. "I don't give out personal information."

"Why not?"

He smirked. "Well, you see, I'm a rather important person, and if people were to find out who I am, and where to send the ransom letter, I could be a liability to my entire planet. Also, I travel the galaxy to get away from all that, and I don't want my identity following me."

"Fair." Peter nodded. "So, what do you do, out here?"

"Hero-work." Sky-Treader shrugged. "Much like you, but more successful."

"Ouch." Peter rolled his eyes. "Any tips?"

"Don't go by your real name."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I got that much."

Sky-Treader tapped his thin fingers lightly on the table. "Don't ever get discouraged. People will say things to you that are just total baloney, for the sole purpose of getting you down. Don't listen. Take it with a grain of salt, as the Terrans say."

"Hey, I'm from Terra!" Quill brightened. "Have you ever been? There's this one place called Missouri, have you seen it?"

Sky-Treader shook his head. "I went, only a few times when I was young. I'm afraid I've never heard of this Missouri, however. Tip number three, don't tell people where you're from, especially if they know the place."

Quill sighed, and glanced down at his hands. "I'm bad at this, aren't I?"

"Terrible." Sky-Treader agreed. "Tip number two, though."

"Don't get discouraged." Peter nodded. "Thanks."

"Of course. The best teacher is experience, keep that in mind." He nodded. "Besides, here comes a client, now."

Quill brightened considerably, and looked up to see a Xandarian, weaving her way through the crowds, her eyes fixed on Sky-Treader. She approached the table, and discreetly laid a million-credit chip on the table.

"What may I do for you, my lady?" Sky-Treader smiled politely, ignoring the chip.

"Silvertongue, is it?" she hummed, sitting down in the booth next to Quill's friend.

"I thought your name was…" He began, but Sky-Treader held up a hand. "I am a man of many names."

"Sky-Treader, Slivertongue, Prince of Shadows, Trickster…" The woman nodded. "You're a thing of legends. And, perhaps… you can help me."

"How may I be of assistance?" The man who apparently had way too many cool names for plain old Peter Quill asked.

"My brother was kidnapped." She wasted no time on introductions.

"Do you know the identity of his captors?"

"I have a theory. No more. He was to meet with our rival clan's leader, and was waylaid along the way."

"You're sure he was kidnapped?"

The woman laid another device on the table, apparently the reel from a security camera. Sky-Treader laid two fingers on the edge, the tips glowed green for a few seconds, and an image appeared just above the disk, depicting a man being trundled into the hold of a spaceship, bound and gagged. The spaceship lifted off the ground, and took off.

"I see. Where were they headed?"

"I don't know."

Sky-Treader played the tape, again, and this time paused it at a select moment, zooming in on the particular markings on the tailfin of the ship. "Does this symbol mean anything to you?"

The woman shook her head, but Quill perked up excitedly. He knew that symbol all too well. "They're ravagers." He blurted.

The both of them looked up, apparently having forgotten he was there. "My lady, allow me to introduce my personal friend, Star-Lord. They're Ravagers, you say?"

Peter flushed slightly at the acknowledgment, and nodded. "I was raised by Ravagers; I'd know that symbol anywhere."

"You're one of them?" The woman asked.

"No!" Peter was quick to deny it. "I mean, I have connections among them, but I'm not… one of them."

"Perhaps you'd like to help us?"

Peter nodded eagerly. This Sky-Treader guy knew what he was doing. Perhaps he could gain popularity, by working with him. At the very least, he could gain experience.

Sure enough, the woman's brother had been captured by Ravagers. It didn't take long for Sky-Treader's ship to catch up with the frustratingly familiar fleet. Sky-Treader and Star-Lord were now sneaking through the halls, weapons in hand. For Peter, it was his blasters, for his companion, razor-sharp throwing daggers.

They didn't expect the poison darts sniper.

When he awoke, he was surprised to find himself inside the hold, behind the chicken wire bars. Sky-Treader lay next to him, heavily beaten, and still unconscious. Peter swiftly crept over, and shook his friend's shoulder. "Sky-Treader!" He whispered dramatically. "Hey, are you okay?"

The brilliant green eyes slid open, and focused on Peter's face. "Quill." He breathed, and struggled to sit up.

"What happened to you, man?"

"Your Ravagers." Sky-Treader wiped blood off his forehead with his sleeve. "What do you think?"

"Oh." Peter eloquently stated. "Hey, I'm sorry about them. They're not usually this brutal."

"I thought you weren't one of them." Sky-Treader narrowed his eye that wasn't swollen shut. "And yet you feel the need to apologize for them?"

Peter drew his knees up to his chest. "Yeah. I guess. You see, they drive me up the wall, but… they're really the only family I've got."

"I see." Sky-Treader rolled his eyes, and struggled to sit up. "Then why were you so quick to deny them?"

"I wanted to look cool…" Peter admitted. "I was a jerk, I know, but… you seemed so capable, and hard-core, and bad-ass, and… I'm kind of a loser. So, I didn't want to seem like a bad guy, too."

"Hm."

"Sorry, again."

Sky-Treader shook his head, but said nothing for a long while. Then: "What do you expect they'll do with us?"

Peter shrugged. "I guess they'll finally eat me like they wanted to when they picked me up. I don't know about you."

"Eat you?" Sky-Treader looked incredulous. "This is your 'family'?"

Peter nodded in embarrassment, but Sky-Treader only shrugged. "My family's so awful I'd rather be here, beaten and bruised, about to die, most likely, than there, so, I suppose I understand you."

"Sky-Treader?" Peter asked, but the man cut him off. "Loki."

"What?" Peter furrowed his brow.

"My real name is Loki Odinson." He shrugged. "I suppose someone might as well know."

"Loki…" Peter tried the name out on his tongue. "I like it. It suits you."

Loki smiled softly, and sat up, his fingertips glowing green as his injuries disappeared.

"Woah! Dude, that is wicked!" Peter gasped, forgetting the grim odds.

"Wicked?" Loki tilted his now-uninjured head in confusion. "I am many things, but not wicked."

"No, I mean, like, wicked cool." Peter corrected himself. "Awesome, or something. How'd you do that?"

"Magic." Loki said.

"But magic isn't real!"

Loki snapped his fingers, and a double of him appeared next to them, grinning mischievously. "Isn't it?"

Peter blinked in surprise. "Okay, then. I recant."

Loki chuckled softly, and the image disappeared. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm rather tired. I don't suppose these Ravagers would let me sleep very-"

"Well, boy, looks like you done got yourself in more trouble than you bargained for, huh?"

Peter and Loki glanced up to see Yondue leaning on the outside of the cage.

"Yondue…" Peter sighed. "I'm really sorry about this."

"Huh." Yondue raised an eyebrow. "How many times do I got to tell you not to bring your girlfriends onto the ship?"

Loki and Peter glanced at each other in confusion. "Um… I'm a man."

Yondue snorted. 'Yeah, I know, I'm just messing with you. I mean, if you were a girl, the boys would've been less rough on you, but as it is, do you know what this looks like you're doing?"

Peter shrugged. "Hanging out with my friend?"

"Mutiny, that's what." Yondue glared.

"Captain." Loki spoke up cordially. "We were led to believe that you or one of your comrades has kidnapped someone."

"Kidnapped?" Yondue scoffed. "Who's the victim, kid?"

Peter glanced at Loki. Did they… have a name? Apparently, they did. "Dysalin."

Wait… Peter's eyes widened, as Yondue started chuckling. "Uh, Sky-Treader… we may have a problem."

"Dysalin?" Yondue hooted, slapping his knee in mirth. "You need to do your research, boy!"

Loki flushed slightly, and glanced between the two of them in confusion.

"Dysalin is a Ravager." Peter explained, just as embarrassed.

"You bet your boots he is!" Yondue laughed. "He wanted us to pick him up from Xandar, and we played a little joke on him to make him freak out. No kidnapping involved."

Peter face-palmed. "This is all just a huge misunderstanding… Can you let us go, please?"

"You two came here to rescue him?" Yondue guessed.

Loki nodded, a wry smile stretching across his face as he realized the humor to the situation and Yondue unlocked the chicken-wire cage. "Sorry about my boys, kid." He grunted, an amused smirk still playing over his face. "They get over-zealous, sometimes."

"Nothing I couldn't handle." Loki shrugged, as they both strode out of the cage. "Thank you for your hospitality."

A few minutes later, Loki boarded his ship, and made to leave.

"You think you'll ever drop by, again?" Peter wondered.

"Most certainly." The Trickster smiled. "It was an honor to meet you, Star-Lord."

Peter blinked in surprise. The name actually worked really well for him. "You, too." He nodded, before Loki stepped into the interior of his super-cool ship, the door hissing shut behind him.

It's kinda my headcanon that Loki liked to travel around the nine realms, doing hero-work, before Thor 1, and that's where he got the title of "Sky-Treader". It's also my headcanon that he and Quill were actually really good friends, but as is obvious in IW, he never told Star-Lord that he had a brother, because whenever someone met Loki on Asgard, and found out he was Thor's brother, they would inevitably ditch him in favor of the Thunderer.

I told my younger sister about this headcanon of mine, and she mentioned that it would be pretty cool, if Loki was the one who originally started calling him Star-Lord. So, yeah. Hope I didn't get Peter's or Yondue's characters messed up.

TheOnlyHuman.