There seemed to be a pattern in the Milano's flight path. For work as well as pleasure purposes it seemed to keep to the more back world planets, only lured to civilized worlds by enough incentive. It was a pleasure purpose that brought them to a little bar on just such a planet. It was their usual type of joint, slightly run-down and teaming with questionable characters. But if it served everyone's favorite drinks no one could really complain.
The boys broke formation not even all the way in the door and were off who knows where which was how Gamora was once again sitting with Philly, though this time she ordered her own drink. Gamora's back was to the bar, shoulders turned towards outward slightly to give a better vantage point. Old habits refused to die but Philly was also being vigilant.
It was a particularly rowdy night at the bar and the next thing they knew the manager was calling for everyone to get back. The loud crack of an intentional warning shot scattered most of the patrons who had been involved started and they started to make for the exits. Gamora grabbed a man running past them by the color of his coat.
"What happened?" she demanded.
"Some idiot picked a fight with a walking muscle, one of them is down for the count." Gamora released him and the guy scurried off as soon as his feet hit the ground.
"You think that's our idiot or our walking muscle?" Philly asked, paying the tab.
"Perhaps both," Gamora answered. The two woman started to push their way through the crowd, no easy feat as the flow was decidedly against them.
They heard someone calling their names and found Peter, a grim look on his face pushing his way towards them. "You two okay?" he asked. At least it wasn't their idiot.
"Yes." Gamora answered. "What happened?"
Peter shrugged, "heck if I know. But I'd bet the Milano it's our problem."
Philly sighed and followed the path her taller teammates blazed through the sea of people that was slowly thinning out. Of course it was their problem, either Rocket had gotten pissed off at someone and had Groot throw him into a bar or Drax had done something similar. It was a new problem they had encountered ever since they had made bar hopping a regular thing. Philly and Peter and certainly Gamora had never been kicked out of so many bars in such a short time.
They finely got the very center of the crowd to find Drax there and a prone body that was bleeding heavily from the head. He wasn't moving and in the back of Philly's brain was the possibility that Drax had just killed someone.
The bar owner was holding a shotgun and aiming the muzzle at Drax's chest. The Destroyer had a look on his face that could only be described as murderous. His upper lip was curled back in a snarl and his brow line was pitched down. Drax's fists were clenched tightly and there was broken glass at his feet.
Rocket and Groot had just gotten to the edge of the crowd on the other side of him. Their eyes met with the other half of their team and there was an unspoken question that everyone directed at Quill who was staring open-mouthed.
Peter got a hold of himself with a good shake of his head that reminded Philly of a dog trying to shake his collar off.
"Gamora take the bartender." He ordered signaling for Rocket and Groot to help him grab Drax. "Philly, get the door for us."
For once no one questioned him, and Philly didn't complain about being assigned to door-getter. Gamora took the bartender down with a flip over her shoulder disarming the shotgun with ease. Groot and Peter had to almost drag Drax outside. He was yelling angrily about a cheater and his honor, all the while straining against them to get at the still unmoving from behind them. With Gamora's help they pushed him out the door, a stray fist narrowly missing Philly's face. Rocket slipped out after them and Philly let the door swing shut. She ran pasted them calling over her shoulder, "I'm getting the Milano!"
…
Drax was strong and a trained warrior, Peter, Gamora, and Groot did not have an easy time of holding him down and wouldn't make it until Philly could pick them up, or at least until the planet's law enforcement found them first.
The only warning they got was the boot-up sound of Rocket's blaster, it was barely enough time for them to get out of the way before a high impact stun round hit Drax dead in the chest. The electricity lit up the alleyway they had found themselves in for a good ten seconds before running out of juice. Rocket was cocked and ready to fire again by then, but Drax teetered for a moment before falling forward and hitting the ground with a plop.
"Did you two see what happened?" Quill asked Rocket.
"No" the bounty hunter replied still keeping his blaster trained on his teammate, "only what you saw, just at a different angel."
"What do we do with him?" Gamora asked, frowning down at the destroyer's prone form.
Peter sighed and gave the slightest shrug, "I-I guess we get him aboard the ship and wait for him to wake up. We'll see what he says and go from there."
"I am Groot."
"Better be one hell of an explanation." Rocket grumbled. Wither they were his own words or if he was paraphrasing Groot's, Peter couldn't be sure.
"Where is Philly?" Gamora asked looking up at the sky. It was a cloudy night so there were no stars.
"She'll be here soon as she can run to the ship and break about a dozen traffic laws on her way here." Rocket said.
Gamora said, "I hope she gets here soon, someone in there might have called law enforcement."
A moment later the Milano's floodlight swept the alley and landed on the five beings. Very carefully the ship rotated so it could lower down until the loading ramp was just off the ground. The ship hovered in place and waited for them to drag Drax into the cargo hold. After Peter sealed the doors they were off, the faintest of sirens chasing after them.
…
Drax woke up a few hours later with a splitting headache and his arms and legs restrained. "what is the meaning of this!" he cried outraged.
"We were hoping you could tell us that." Gamora's voice sounded from above his head. As Drax's mind started to clear he realized he was in the hold and, there were no vibrations so they were not in the air. Gamora was here frowning down at him and Peter was off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. He asked again.
"You went berserk in the club and went all Sugar Ray Leonard on some dude." Peter answered.
"The man was cheating at a fair game and disgracing my honor." The destroyer answered like it should be obvious, "On my planet honor is necessary to defend."
"Yeah, well we're not on your planet right now." Peter retorted irritably.
Drax's eyes swept over the Tearrn and lingered on the Walkman he had clipped to his belt and the headphones hanging around his neck. "All due respect but we are not on your planet either."
Peter opened his mouth but Gamora cut him off, "there are some things that are not widely accepted throughout the galaxy and intent to kill is one of them."
Peter said, "Remember what we promised Corpsmen Dey? How we would stay out of trouble and how I would look out for all of you?"
"I do not think most of our outings could be classified as 'keeping out of trouble."' Drax returned. "I do not see the difference."
"It is frustrating," Gamora admitted, "but there is a time and a place for our, and Groot's particular skill sets. It is all in context when it is and when it is not appropriate to use force. No matter how lethal or not the force may be."
"Why, then, is it alright for you, or him, or anyone? Even in the past, I have used force when not on missions and it has not been an issue before." He continued to pull at the restraints.
A very frustrated noise came from up the stairs. Philly, followed by Groot and Rocket, stomped over to them not bothering to hide they had been eavesdropping, "oh for the love of…you took on an opponent so much weaker than you there was no comparison. He didn't stand a chance, you knew it, you beat him to a pulp and that is not okay."
"It was okay on Xandar."
"Before you didn't leave anybody in a coma then try to turn him into jelly or have to be dragged outside and knocked out to be calmed down." Rocket clarified, "tonight you crossed a line, according to them, and everyone has their pants in a twist."
Drax breathed out through his nose. His teeth were clenched together and his eyes were fixed on at point on the ceiling so he didn't have to look at them, "release me."
"Are you going to try and kill us too?" Philly asked.
"No."
The others exchanged looks. "Well," Peter said starting to undo the straps around Drax's wrists. "That's good enough for me."
Gamora, Groot, Rocket, and Philly watched the destroyer warily as, free of his bonds, he sat up slowly. Peter clapped him on the shoulder, "sorry about that, big guy. We just can't afford to redo the hold if you did something insane."
"I understand." Drax returned coldly. Once again on his feet the destroyer all but stomped up the ladder and up to his shared room with Peter.
"Well, that went better than I thought it'd go." Rocket admitted.
"How did you think it would go?" Philly asked.
"Well for starters I thought he would fight us at least."
"You just want another excuse to shot someone, don't you?"
"…Maybe." Rocket shrugged.
…
Later, after everyone else had retired for the night Peter found Drax sitting at the kitchen table. The man looked like he was either trying to glare a hole into the table or attempting to move it with his mind. Peter considered leaving him be and not meddling but there were two things wrong with that. One, it was against his nature to mind his own business. And two, as the self-proclaimed captain of the team it was his job to solve this mess or he might as well just admit Gamora was in charge.
"Hey, Drax."
"Hello, Quill." He replied without looking up.
Peter took two hesitant steps inside the door frame, "Mind if I sit with you?"
He shrugged, "I have no preference."
Encouraged by the small yet meaningful progress, the Tearrn turned a chair around to sit backward in it.
"Have you thought about what we said earlier?" Peter asked, trying to keep his tone light. He didn't know why he bothered with that though, Drax wasn't really one to pay attention to tone of voice or body language, or any signals Peter was used to sending out to make confrontations less accusing.
"Yes." Drax said, "Have you thought about what I said?"
Peter sighed; this had a pretty high chance of someone ending up in the med bay if he didn't phrase it right. "Alright, let me put it like this then. How good do you think is Philly at fighting?"
It took a moment for Drax to respond. He was unsure of where the Terran was taking this and he did not wish to insult his friend. But in the end his race didn't put much effort into diplomacy or tact and he admitted, "She is incompetent in any form of physical confrontation and also fails to recognizes this."
"Yeah, she is stubborn about that," Peter muttered shooting an involuntary glance to the door as if expecting the blue-haired woman to walk in any second. Then he said louder, "She's a weaker opponent than a lot of people you might meet in a bar, correct?"
"Correct."
"Well, she- wait. Philly in like, your beloved teammate, right?" Peter wanted to make sure, because if he didn't Drax might try to take her head off next.
"Philly is my friend." The warrior said firmly, straightening up in his seat defensively.
Peter held up his hands in a settle down gesture, "Good. Well… Philly has a bad habit of, er, cheating at card games sometimes."
"But that is dishonorable!" Drax protested.
"And it's gotten her in trouble lots of times." Peter agreed without really taking a side. "I remember this one time she came home and her face was so swollen she could barely see straight."
Drax growled, "what did you do?"
In all honesty, he had burst out laughing because she had looked like a plum and her blue hair did not help in the slightest. Peter remembered tossing her the medkit and teasing Philly for a few weeks until the swelling went down. But that was what she did when the situation was reversed so it was fair by their standards. Of course, if he told Drax all that the big man might very well rip his arms off and shove them down his throat, so he said, "I… patched her up and we left the planet."
"And what of the assailants?" Drax demanded.
"They got away." Peter shrugged.
"Injustice!" Drax cried bringing his fist down on the table with a loud smack and making everything on it jump.
"You're getting away." Peter reminded, hoping no one would wake up from the loud noise.
This gave Drax pause enough to give Peter a chance to get up and make some hot chocolate for them. The kitchen still smelled faintly of the cleaner they had used in preparation of visiting the farm giving the room a clean appearance if he closed his eyes. But there was a pile of dishes in the sink, threatening to spill over the rim and unfinished boxes of space food scattered over the counter. Frankly, Peter was surprised the cleanness had lasted as long as it had. Though Gamora and Philly had not been too happy about the slowly accumulating dirt.
"The people where we go will not be good people and we can't just go around hurting people."
"Like we do on missions." Drax returned. "I do not see the difference."
Peter sighed, he knew the Drax really was having trouble understanding the differences in context and was not trying to be difficult. "work with me on some ground rules though. Are you willing to agree to only hurt people as little as possible when we're not on missions?"
"I can agree with that."
Peter handed Drax his hot chocolate, "good. And you don't have to be good at understanding situations, you can always ask me, or Gamora, or Philly, or even Groot for help interpreting."
"Interpreting is not my problem because my universal translator makes all languages understandable."
Peter explained, "just like beings who don't understand other's languages have trouble understanding each other, beings who don't understand another's context have trouble understanding. You just need an interpreter until you learn."
"I do not ask Rocket?"
"Only if he's unarmed."
