A/N: Warnings- Brief Torture, Strong Language

Chain Keeps Us Together

Chapter 4: Lake Shore Drive


...

'This is getting serious.'

A fair thought to have as one screamed at the top of their lungs while a crazed lunatic aimed to break their ribs.

'But you've no one to blame but yourself' his subconscious annoyingly chirped. 'YOU were the one who let it get out of hand! It's your fault. You deserve this.'

That may be true. Someone as skilled as Star-Lord should be a pro at getting himself out of sticky situations. Jesus, compared to some of the other shit he's crawled his way out of, Magic-Man should have been cake. What probably sucked most was that he'd honestly thought he had this one figured out-

'You did. Remember our plan to play along?'

Yeah, alright. He would admit this particular situation only went sour because he couldn't take it seriously (a very Peter problem to have). It was a bad move to antagonize this Doctor Strange without knowing what he was capable of. He was basically up against an attack dog, one that had (for some goddamn reason) seen Star-Lord as a threat. And to add a bit more rain to his already shitty day, the attack dog knew how to do some kind of wacky magic. Great.

Somewhere in Ravager Heaven Quill was sure Yondu was shaking his head at him, sitting on some golden fluffy bar stool with the rest of his dead pals. "Rookie mistake, boy" he would shout and throw back a shot of the worst stuff imaginable.

And Yondu would be right... It was a stupid mistake.

Analyzing a bad situation thoroughly had always been the Ravager way. The life of a thief wasn't an easy one. A much younger Peter Quill would be reminded of that nearly every day after being kidnapped from Terra. The Ravagers knew what it took to succeed in a business so cold. There were unspeakable dangers, enemies galore, the constant risk of imprisonment or death. One would think playing the part of the hero would be leaps and bounds safer...

Spoiler Alert: It's NOT.

"AHHH!"

The straps briefly let up for a couple of seconds before the pressure on his body steadily began to increase again. Out of the corner of his eye, Quill could see his enemy's outstretched hand- shaking, twitching, fingers spread wide,

Enough. ENOUGH!

"SSSTUHHS-STAAHP! STOP!" Peter screamed

That seemed to do the trick. His hoarse cries faded as the straps immediately loosened. Thick polyester slithered back to their original hold, sitting snug against his heavy intakes of air.

Fuck

That hurt...

Well, of course it hurt. Quill was just surprised it hurt as much as it did- Holy hell They were freakin' seatbelts for crying out loud! The half-human had always considered himself a durable individual, life of an outlaw didn't come without the occasional brush with pain, but this wacko's messed up form of torture was a new (horrible) experience that the guardian hadn't been expecting.

'Well what had you been expecting? A hug?'

No. But he had thought Strange would at least do what most villains did in these scenarios: Gloat about their plan, get frustrated by his snarky comebacks, leave him alone for a few hours, and then MAYBE come back to torture him (if Quill hadn't already escaped by then). This jerk was doing it all backwards! The sassy outlaw throws a few jokes and gets tortured? Ridiculous. The punishment didn't fit the crime!

It just didn't make sense. What was Strange after? His captor was desperate for quick and precise answers, but why? Why so desperate? You're not human he had said. How did he know?

Quill was still breathing through the aftershocks of his pain when he noticed the man's trembling hand drop to his side. The shit Doctor had backed up a few feet. His intricate blue robes touched the shelves that were protruding from the walls. If there was ever a time Peter Quill wished he had his father's godly powers back, it was now. He would pick that giant dead thing off the top shelf and drop it on Doctor Asshat's head.

Ha.

"I didn't want to have to demonstrate my lack of patience," Strange said, taking a single step forward. "But I don't have time for games."

A thousand inappropriate responses flew through Quill's mind and Oh it took everything he had to keep his mouth shut. True, Quill had pushed his luck so far, but he was a fast learner. If he wanted to avoid pain, he would need to figure out a way to answer his captor's questions. 'Easy as pie.' And when the questioning was done, he would reformulate an escape plan from there.

"Look, Man" he swallowed, trying to coat his dry vocal cords. "I wanna help you out, okay? But I don't even remember the question. That's not me being difficult, that's just a fact."

He should be given transparency-points and be allowed to take a piss. Wouldn't that be nice... But he wouldn't push his luck just yet.

He actually did have to pee though.

Meh. He'd hold onto that comment for now.

"One more time," Quill watched thin shoulders drop into a sigh. He had one of those stern looks on his face, like a mom who was done trying to get her kids to stop screaming in a restaurant. "What master do you serve?"

Ah, that's right. This question.

"I don't serve anyone. I'm my own employer, Doctor Weird. Ship and all."

Strange pursed his lips, eyes blinking rapidly. He didn't look like he was buying it... which was RIDICULOUS because it was the truth! The last master Quill had technically served was Yondu, though he wouldn't call it serving and he definitely wouldn't call Yondu his master.

"I'm serious!" He added, hoping his desperate sincerity would save him another round of cobra-hell. "Help me out here! I don't know what you want me to say!"

"You know exactly wha-

"I DON'T though!"

Strange closed his eyes and took a breath, seemingly out of patience once again.

"Okay. Better question: What is your connection to the titan Thanos?"

What? Thanos... This is about Thanos?

Quill could only shake his head. It looked like the whole universe was talking about that purple monstrosity. And what was that bullshit about a connection? Had he heard correctly? What connection? He didn't have any connections to the titan. He'd say Ronan the Asshole had a connection to Thanos, maybe even Gamora had a connection to Thanos, but Peter Quill did NOT have a connection to Thanos. Talk about barking up the wrong tree,

"What do you mean a- a connection?" Quill sputtered. "What connection? The guy sucks! He's a dick. He torments my girl." Did this guy seriously think Star-Lord was some friend of that purple zit? "I met him once and he tried to kill me-"

Wait. Hold on.

"Is... is that what this is all about? You think I'm some lackey of Thanos?"

The guardian's mouth snapped shut when a flurry of blue robes moved towards him. Strange had suddenly thrown himself forward, long, pale, scarred hands pressing onto both sides of the mattress just above Quill's head. A distant thought was wondering how those hands had gotten that scarred, but the sound of tired springs crying under the weight of an adult man shooed those poorly timed questions out the window like a skiddish squirrel.

"You called to Thanos." The accusation was hissed, hazel eyes darkening again to their cautionary black. "You shouted for him in your sleep."

The hell? Whoa. No, he didn't! No. No. No. He does NOT call to weirdo purple psychopaths in his sleep. False.

"What? I wasn't calling for Thanos! You got it wrong!"

Peter pressed his head as far back onto the pillow as possible, but there was no space left to claim. The villain was in his face, sharp angular features crowding his vision and invading his air. A dark lock fell from Strange's gelled hairdo and brushed Quill's forehand. It was scary having the guy this close. He smelled like soap, spice, antiseptic, and impending pain.

The bed jolted when Strange gave it a rough shove- out of frustration? To frighten him? He didn't know. All he knew was that he wasn't about to be tortured and maimed over a misunderstanding.

"Why the hell would I call Thanos? So he can come kill me sooner?" The hero's hysterical laugh made his captor flinch. "I don't even know HOW I would do that! The sleeping-me must be one hell of a phone booth-"

"Then explain yourself."

"I don't know what you're talking about! I was asleep, man! Maybe I had a dream about him kicking over my sandcastle. Sounds in character to me."

There was an extended silence, nothing but panting breaths and awkward eye contact. Strange was considering him, taking him in again as if Quill were a puzzle with one missing piece. The missing piece was, of course, that Star-Lord was no villain in cahoots with a bloated block-head...

That also meant, Quill supposed, that Doctor Strange wasn't the villain of this story either.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding here, Doc." He tried. "You're against Thanos, I'm guessing?"

He held the man's stare. Strange said nothing.

"I am too. We're on the same side."

For a few seconds, the prisoner was afraid he might've misjudged. It wasn't until after a full minute, and at least five different expressions flitting across the other's face, that he was sure he had said the right thing. His maybe-not-so-villainous enemy sat up immediately and quickly pushed away from the bed.

"Do you know where you are?" He asked, voice suddenly much calmer than it had been a minute ago.

Peter blinked. "No?"

"Earth." The man didn't leave any room for Quill to say more. "Roughly eight hours ago, you fell from a tunnel formed by dark magic. The Hulk tells me it was during an altercation between the titan Thanos and Thor of Asgard."

"Yes. Yes!" The prisoner couldn't help his excitement. He'd found common ground at last! "Exactly! I fell through a swirly magic hole with the Hulk- ...that sounded weird, but yeah. Yes to all of that."

"I've spoken with the Hulk," Strange ignored his comments and began slowly pacing the floor, hands twitching oddly as his eyes scanned the room. "He doesn't remember you. He has no idea who you are."

what?

"Uhh... Okay. Well, Hulk didn't seem like the type of guy who would have a solid handle on names and faces..." more like the type of guy who lived in the moment and forgot about things two seconds later like a goldfish. "So what? Are you saying you don't believe me 'cause the Hulk claims he doesn't know me?"

"I'm saying I can't afford to believe you." was the man's tight response. He'd stopped his pacing, wandering eyes never landing on Peter again. The asshole brushed some imaginary dust from his clothes and headed for the door.

"What? W-Wait!" Hold on. Pause. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Where are you going?"

Strange didn't even have the decency to look back over his shoulder before exiting.

"Doctor Weird!" He continued to shout anyway. That prick could hear him, he HAD to hear him "You have to let me go! I... I have to PEE, remember?"

He did actually have to pee, that was the real tragedy.

Quill laid his head back and sighed.

Getting his captor to let him go would have been nice, but Plan A would have to do:

Make a daring escape.

...


End Note: Where's Bruce? We'll find out next chapter ;) Thanks for Reading!