Peter lunged for Kutral, grabbing her chin and shoving her back into the wall. Her head connected with a thud. She gasped, dazed. Loki kicked out, sending her flying into the bars. The keys to Loki's cuffs slipped from her hand, landing with a clink. Peter grabbed for them. If only he could get Loki's cuffs off, get his magic back on their side, let him start fighting whatever spell Beb had put on him-

Kutral appeared in front of him, the breeze of her dash unsettling her hair. She swiped the keys aside, sending them skidding out of the cell. "Did you think it would be that simple?" she hissed, wrapping her long fingers around his throat.

Peter tugged at her hands, choking for air. Kutral pushed him onto his back, leaning her weight onto him, digging her knee into his stomach. Vision already blackening, he looked around for help. Erebu had Mantis pinned against her, but she was lashing out with pointy elbows just like Gamora had taught her, seeking a firm grip on some piece of Erebu's flesh. Gamora and Beb were rolling around, Gamora trying to stay on Beb's blind side as she clawed for Gamora's throat. And Loki was just trying to scramble through the fighting bodies, his attention locked on the abandoned keys.

Looks like I'm on my own, Peter thought hazily, returning his attention to Kutral.

"You will pay for mussing my hair," she threatened.

"And you… will pay… for screwing up mine," Peter shot back.

Peter brought his knee up, jabbing it into Kutral's butt. She stumbled, her grip loosening just a smidge, listing to one side. Peter lurched into a roll, shoving his throat into her hands and landing a blow on her side to keep her tilting. She fell, and he rolled onto his stomach, sucking in breaths. For a moment, he could hardly move.

That was all Kutral needed. She gingerly picked herself up, rising to all fours before shifting to a crouch, leaning her hand on one knee as she shook her head, ran a hand through her hair. Peter pushed himself, but the adrenaline was wearing off and god he was starving – when had they last eaten?

"This was supposed to be simple," Kutral muttered.

"Nothing's simple with us," Peter rasped.

Kutral turned on him, glaring, and Peter geared up for another round.

A faint clinking, hardly audible over the other two fights, drew their attention. Loki had managed to escape the fighting, and now knelt in the corridor, fumbling with his cuffs. Kutral stiffened, her stance shifting just enough for Peter to realize she wasn't going for him.

"Loki, run!" he yelled.

Loki jerked his head up, panic flooding his expression as he met Kutral's eyes. I've never seen him look like that, Peter thought, the realization stabbing into his heart. Loki had his vulnerable side, his own fears and weaknesses they had all helped him with at one point or another, but he was also their rock. He had over a thousand years of wisdom under his belt, wisdom that had helped Mantis further hone her abilities and saved them from many dangerous situations.

But most importantly, a more subtle detail that Peter was realizing he had always taken for granted, was his ability to hold himself together. His ability to throw up the mask of a warrior, of a prince, of a sorcerer. An aura of quiet strength that was always there, always an anchor when Peter and the others faltered.

But here, in this moment, he looked like a child. Like one of the numerous terrified little kids Peter had rescued from mortal danger, like the terrified little boy Peter had once been. He wasn't a fighter or a prince. He was just a person. A person who didn't want to get hurt again.

With a grunt of effort, Peter picked himself up. Loki only needed a few seconds, a few precious seconds to get those cuffs off. Then he could heal himself and run. Maybe he would remember, maybe he wouldn't, but he would be alive.

Peter flung himself at Kutral.

As he was hurtling through where she had been half a heartbeat before, she was already tackling Loki. She yanked the keys from him and slammed his head against the ground. The fight went out of him in an instant, leaving him limp and helpless. Kutral smirked, tucking the keys back into her pocket.

Peter crashed into Beb, knocking her off Gamora. He rolled off, coughing. Gamora bolted to her feet, snatching Beb up and hurling her at Erebu. That startled both women. Mantis tore free of Erebu's grip and grabbed what she could – Beb's hand and Erebu's half-covered shoulder – and screamed "SLEEP!"

Both women collapsed. Kutral bared her teeth, disappearing in a flash. Gamora, panting, her sleeves shredded and bloodied, darted over to Peter. "Are you all right?" she asked between ragged breaths.

Peter nodded, staggering to his feet with her help. "Loki?" he rasped. "Loki, you alive?"

Loki answered with a moan. Gamora helped Mantis up, too, then helped the trio to Loki's side. He crouched down and carefully peeled back the shirt Loki had found time to put on, ignoring his shudder at the unexpected touch, peeking at the bandages beneath. "Oh yeah, you're bleeding again, buddy."

"We don't have time to patch him up here," Gamora pointed out.

"I did not have a good grip on either woman," Mantis said. "They will not sleep long."

"You're right," Peter decided. He glanced at Mantis, whose face was now bruised. "I hate to ask, but…" He gestured at Loki.

She nodded hesitantly, beginning to reach for his hand. Loki jerked away from her, propping himself up on one elbow. "What is she doing?"

"I am an empath. If you allow me, I can ease some of your pain."

"I'm… I'm fine, thank you," Loki said, tucking his hand firmly away from her. Mantis drooped a little, withdrawing her own hand.

"Loki, I understand that you don't want your mind being messed with, but you've gotta walk out of here," Peter said. "And fast, before Kutral zips back here."

Loki hesitated, looking between them and their unconscious captors. After a long moment, he grabbed Mantis's hand. She started, tried to cover it up with a position adjustment, then closed her eyes and concentrated. Her antennae began to glow, and a second later, Loki slumped a little in relief, letting out a breath.

"All right, let's go," Peter ordered, moving to help Loki up. Mantis adjusted carefully, switching out the hand that Loki held so she could pull his arm over her shoulder and support him at the waist. Peter glanced at their captors, but saw no weapons to steal. The one time I actually want them to have weapons, he grumbled. Then they moved out, Peter in the lead and Gamora bringing up the rear.

They passed a tunnel that branched out. Peter considered trying it, but Loki flinched away violently, and that was all the answer he needed as to where it went. Eventually, they came upon a living room-like area, with a table and chairs and a broken punching bag. There was food trash on the table and a little cabinet, so Peter checked it. His stomach growled hungrily at the sight of a couple bags of food and water bottles, all of which he grabbed.

There were three tunnels out of this room. Daylight gleamed out of the largest, but Peter went and checked the two smaller ones. One led to a bathroom, the sink stained pink and surrounded by bloody cloths, and he quickly backed out of that one before his rage decided to do something reckless. But the second turned out to be a sort of closet.

"Aha!" he exclaimed happily, pulling out their weapons and his knapsack. Gamora filled her holsters with a look of relief, patting the hilts, while Peter dumped as much of the food as he could in his bag – which contained an unharmed Zune – before handing the remainder to Loki. Then, blasters in hand, he led them outside, discovering a lush forest full of tweeting birds, the sun shining overhead in a deep blue sky.

Immediately, they found five blasters pointed at them.

"Aw, crap," Peter groaned.

"Drop the weapons," Kutral ordered, standing behind a row of armed guards clad in blinding gold armor, a blue line running down the middle of their helmets. Peter and Gamora obeyed, tossing away their defenses and raising their hands into the air. Only then did Kutral move forward to cuff Peter and Gamora. She left Loki and Mantis alone, though.

"Your acquisitions are prepared, sir!" she called over her shoulder.

The bushes rustled, light somehow managing to glint off something moving in their shadows. Peter squinted, bracing himself for whatever maniac came to collect them.

But the man that emerged wasn't disturbing or sneering or anything Peter had expected. He looked human, with neatly styled grey hair, and painted blue nails with a matching line stretching from his bottom lip to his chin. He wore a shimmering gold robe over a blue outfit, and sandals that didn't seem to fit trekking through a jungle. Peter shared a glance with Gamora, eyebrows arched dubiously.

"Aha!" the man said, clapping his hands together. "Greetings, Guardians of the Galaxy. Although you're not doing much guarding now, are you?"

"No," Peter answered shortly. "Thanks for that."

"Oh, you're quite welcome!" he chuckled. "It must be exhausting, trying to save all those people. From now on, you'll only have to save yourselves!"

Gamora wrinkled her nose. "Who are you?"

"Oh, yes, silly me, I've forgotten my manners. Well, I used to have a recording do the whole introduction bit for me, it really saved quite a bit of time-"

"Please get to the point," Peter interrupted.

He smiled wickedly, steepling his fingers together. "I am known as the Grandmaster. And you are now my prisoners with jobs."

-MCU-

They spent some more time scouring the cave and surrounding area, desperate for any hint of what may have happened to the others. Not unexpectedly, they came up with nothing. Just the little piece of tech they had spent an entire day tracking. And now they were plodding back to the Milano, out of ideas once again.

"Damn it," Rocket snapped yet again.

"I am Groot," the tree said, shoulders slumping.

"We will locate them," Drax stated firmly. "We must."

"How?" Rocket demanded as the place they had parked came into view.

"Could we not track their ship?" Drax asked.

Rocket gestured sharply at the smog-obscured sky. "There are too many ships. Even if we did know which one they were flying, we'd never be able to pick out its individual trail by now. And we can't go around scanning every damn planet for Quill's translator implant. I mean, maybe, maybe I can trace this thing-"

"You can't."

Rocket whipped his gun up, aiming it at the newcomer. Drax moved in a heartbeat, pinning him against the nearest boulder, one dagger on his throat. Groot grabbed his hands, pinning them together.

"Hmph. This looks familiar," Rocket said.

The kid from Fort Knaux managed a wry smile as he glanced nervously at Drax. "I won't- I won't run or anything, if you could please just… not do that."

Rocket jerked his head, and Drax and Groot backed off. They stayed close, penning him in, while Rocket didn't lower his gun. "Whatcha doing out here, kid?"

He straightened up, rubbing at his throat. "Uh, my name's Bex. And I'm here to… make amends."

"I am Groot," Groot snorted.

"Why should we believe you?" Rocket translated. Albeit with slightly different words.

"Look, I only worked for Knaux trying to make enough units to get off this planet. My mom came here in very different times, but after I was born, she got clean. Mostly. We just wanna get out of here, and Knaux was least likely to kill me if I screwed up."

Rocket considered him, then exchanged a glance with Drax. He nodded, so Rocket lowered the gun. "Ya got five minutes, kid. We've got business to attend to."

Bex pointed at the false signal emitter Rocket still held. "You can't trace that. It's completely independent of the original source, a little something of my own design."

"So we won't waste our time with it," Rocket said, planning to waste the time anyway. He had to exhaust all leads, and for all they knew, the kid was still messing with them. "Good to know."

"But," Bex went on, "I did plant a tracker on one of them."

Despite his skepticism, Rocket perked up. "You did?"

"If I can sell someone out, I will," Bex replied. "I don't like it, but… Mom's been working fifteen years to get us away. She tries, she tries to be a good mom, a good role model, but this place… this planet, this city… It compromises you. Even if you're doing it for the right reason. And I gotta help her."

Rocket softened, recognizing the tremble in Bex's voice, holstering his gun. "Tell ya what. Give us that tracking info, and we'll give you a lift and some units. Deal?"

Bex's jaw dropped. "S-seriously?"

Rocket flashed a lopsided smile. "I got my own family to protect, kid. Whatever it takes."

Bex shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out a datachip. "I tagged the blue one," he said, offering it to Rocket.

Rocket took it, mind already working through the adapters he would need to connect it to the ship. "Drax, Groot, escort this kid to his place to get his mom and stuff, and then we'll be off."

"Thank you," Bex said, grinning below watering eyes. "Thank you, thank you so much-"

"It's what we do," Rocket interrupted before Bex could start hugging people. "Now shoo. We're on a clock."

Bex dashed off, followed by Drax and Groot, while Rocket raced to the Milano.

Let's hope Kutral's still with them.


A/N: So I'm gonna be on vacation next week, and while I will have both my laptop and internet access, I can't guarantee I'll remember or be able to find time to post (the fact that the next book in my fave series comes out on Tuesday doesn't help either, cause I'll be focused on devouring that). So hopefully chapter 8 will be up no later than Tuesday night, but don't fret if it's not - I'm not abandoning y'all.