A/N: It was taking me a little longer to get this next one out, so here's a shorter chapter for the time being. The second part will be out very soon! Enjoy!

Chain Keeps Us Together

Chapter 5: Fox On the Run


Trying to recall the last 10 hours was a useless endeavor. Sitting safe and sound on a bed half a galaxy away from trouble was as worrisome as it was relieving and Bruce couldn't ignore the heaviness settled around his heart. His time spent as the Hulk was nothing more than smudges of thoughts and feelings. The left over aches and pains were the only horrible reminders of a lost battle Hulk must have lived through.

"I don't know. Does the guy seem like a threat to you?"

"He's a moron. That's my opinion."

Before his last transformation, Bruce had seen the villain's massive ship, seen the army, seen the power that emanated from it all. Terrifying- It was terrifying! The mad titan Thanos was a monster. He chased the Asgardian refugees through space until they had no choice but to turn and face the beast that haunted their every waking nightmare. Bruce remembered thinking how unfair it was. After their planet's destruction, it seemed so unjust that the Asgardian people would again be thrown into the middle of a war...

Of course, no one knew the word unfair better than the Hulk's chew toy. Bruce Banner's life was one big green horror movie after another. Pain, Pain, and more Pain followed him wherever he went. It wasn't logical to blame himself for what happened between Thor and Thanos... but his tendency towards being a walking bad-luck charm ate at him more than he'd ever admit out loud.

Bruce would have never expected to be hurdled through space though. That was one horrible surprise he hadn't seen coming. The scientist vaguely remembered reading one of Tony Stark's files on Thor a couple of years ago, back when the snarky playboy let him have free roam of his penthouse. It had Jane Foster's witness statement on the god of thunder's arrival. Talk of an unexplained amount of interference, bright lights, roaring winds. Thor had been cast out by his father's "magic", or so he'd said, and had fallen to earth through a colorful and slightly disorienting tunnel.

Now, that sounded familiar.

Thrown down to earth in the heat of battle... Bruce Banner was a live and well, but what about everyone else? What happened to Thor? What happened to the ship? He wanted to call up to Heimdall like he'd seen the god of thunder do time after time. He wanted to scream to the sky and ask the empty air what had become of everyone. It was awful not knowing. He felt nervous, he felt sick, useless, alone.

But he couldn't let himself get worked up. He had job to do. Contacting the Avengers was crucial. What he didn't know hurt, but he couldn't let the unknown stop him from helping those he had left.

"...And I mean a complete moron."

Bruce's most recently acquired ally went by the name Doctor Strange. Tall, lean, with a deep dry-witted voice, Stephen Strange was a name he had definitely heard before. The man was a famous neurosurgeon and had won multiple awards for his success in the medical field. Apparently, the famed doctor was now a sorcerer (as if things couldn't get any weirder) and was the world's mystic protector. It was a lot to take in, but at least the guy was quick to take Bruce seriously.

"-He claims to be human. Said his name is Star-Lord."

The scientist lifted a brow at that.

"Aaaand what? You don't believe him?"

"Of course I don't believe him. He's a lying, uncooperative jackass. "

The mouthy stranger in question had appeared shortly after Bruce did. Strange showed him the man's picture. A brightly lit screen of an iphone held the unfamiliar face. It was nobody Bruce had seen before. The maroon-clad warrior was laid out on a small bed, smaller than the one Bruce was occupying. He had sandy-reddish hair and a fit figure. Probably around 6 foot judging by the proportions.

"Star-Lord, huh? Maybe it's a nickname." If there was one thing he'd learned about space, it was that aliens loved their nicknames. "I mean, I guess it doesn't matter really. Did he say anything about Thanos?"

"He's anti-Thanos, according to him."

Bruce sighed.

"Then why are we keeping him hogtied? If he's anti-Thanos then he's anti-whatever the hell Thanos is capable of. He's probably got a hell lot more information than what I was able to piece together from Hulk."

"Unreliable information."

"Unreliable information is still something!" He didn't mean to raise his voice, but this was serious. The universe was waiting on them! "Star-Man could help us if we ask the right questions."

"Star-Lord." The doctor hotly corrected. "And if you want to attempt conversation, be my guest. Getting a straightforward answer is like pulling teeth."

"Then maybe we'd better try a different approach. No teeth pulling. Let him loose and ask nicely."

"Right." The sorcerer didn't look convinced.

"I mean it. We'll keep a close eye on him. Any funny business, it's back to bad cop. Sound good?"

Strange wiped a hand down his face, a sure sign of agitation, but he nodded.

"Fine. But I'll leave the "playing nice" part to you."

"I can do that." Bruce smiled and threw his legs over the side of the bed. "He calls himself Star-Lord. How much trouble can he be?"


...

"Ugh...You gotta be kidding me."

He was stuck.

Not trapped, he was already trapped to begin with. No, Star-Lord was stuck.

His plan was supposed to work! Slide up and free his forearms, then pull up on the bottom strap around his middle so he could slip his hips through. Unfortunately, he hadn't taken into account the protruding metal buckle on his belt. The sucker had moved at some point during his earlier struggles. Sitting an inch to the right of where a belt buckle should be, there was no chance of Quill just sucking it in to get it under.

The defeated groan that came out his mouth wasn't at all dramatic enough for the frustration he was feeling. Nothing in his life could ever be simple for once. It was like he was cursed.

Sourly, Quill dropped his head back onto the mattress.

"Easy, Quill." He whispered "It's fine." All it would take was some good old fashion problem solving! Like un-supergluing your index finger from your middle finger or freeing your head from a bucket, this would be cake. Logically, if the buckle was the problem, then he had to move the buckle. No, not move the buckle... REMOVE the buckle.

"Boom!"

Take off the belt! Duh! Obviously! Quill's hands dropped to his belt and began tugging at the leather. It wasn't easy maneuvering while his top half was still trapped under the polyester straps. They were tight and pinched the skin above his elbow whenever he tried to twist one way or the other. He quickly undid the clip and unhooked the ends. Then, inch by inch, he began that painstaking act of trying to wiggle it out from under himself.

"Come on, come on!" He hissed, humping the air in little ridiculous thrusts that would have embarrassed the heck out of him if he wasn't alone. "Little more- Ouch! almost... AH!"

Success! The sound of his metal buckle hitting the floor with a thud was music to his ears, and Quill couldn't help grinning as he slid the rest of himself up the bed.

Every bone and muscle in his body screamed as soon as he stood, but he was too relieved to care. He'd done it! He was free! Now to get the hell out of this place and find a working ship!

Quill's first few steps were a bit rocky. Weak and wobbly bones made him stumble and tilt. He managed to catch himself on the nightstand and quickly shook out each prickling limb individually.

"Easy. Taking it easy remember?"

No more than a minute later, and little more carefully, he started walking again. The creaking floor did him no favors. It squealed and hissed like he was stepping on angry cats. Quill winced with every loud cry and tried his best to take long strides to the bedroom door. The hall was vacant, thankfully, not a soul in sight. Had Strange left? Was he hiding? Watching? The whole situation gave him goosebumps. He couldn't afford anymore blunders. Magic Man didn't look like the type of guy that would mess around. If he was found trying to make a run for it...

Well, he didn't want to think about that.

Passed the door, an old frayed runner that looked like something his grandfather owned ran from one side of the hallway to the other. He didn't have any other choice but to follow it, so he cautiously stopped before every open door to check if someone was inside. The rooms were empty, aside from some weird trinkets and towering piles of books. The guardian snorted at the mess.

"Seriously?" The number of books this guy had was just plain ridiculous. It was so primitive compared to what he was used to. What did Doctor Strange do with all of this stuff? Save it for firewood?

"I smell a garage sale."

Ha! Aw garage sales... now that took him back.

Meredith Quill used to take her son to garage sales all the time. Peter's mother didn't have a lot of money, or at least that's what Peter had suspected. His grandparents would hand her rolls of cash in the kitchen while they sipped coffee and smoked. He remembered how they'd walk the neighborhood with his red wagon every season. Meredith picked out furniture and clothes and this and that, but little Peter was always allowed to pick one small item for himself.

The memories were blurry, but you can't erase joy like that from your soul. His younger self relished in those moments, walking from table to table in search of that perfect knickknack he would treasure forever...

Everything had changed the day his mother died. All the knickknacks and days of grazing through garage sales were gone along with Meredith. Every small treasure was left behind with the furniture, clothes, smoke, hushed whispers, and rolls of cash.

Maybe some lonely little daydreamer found the collection after he was gone. Quill sincerely hoped so.

"Ooo!" Speaking of grazing for treasure, it probably wouldn't hurt if Quill just happened to snatch a little somethin on the way out. A guy with this much stuff must have something worth taking. Call it compensation for the round of torture Strange had put him through. It's only fair.

The corners of his mouth lifted into a wicked grin. He could easily just waltz into any of these rooms and quickly snatch a treasure. He would just have to be quick about it.

"Quick. Right." Quill chose the very next door to slip into. Thankfully, it seemed the guardian's luck had finally changed! The room was full of small glass-cased objects, expensive art, and weapons! Books still sat in towering piles, but they were fancy books (if that made any goddamn sense), Leather bound, gold painted, pretty things that made Quill want to touch and take. But he wouldn't waste his time on books. He was gonna go for something bigger (shinier) that he could pawn off, maybe even for a ship.

His thick soles squeaked against the polished wood floors of his enemy's den. Star-Lord had to act fast. Each step was time lost.

"Okaaaay, Pfffffff-ba-ba-ba" he carefully took in his surroundings, blunt nails picking at his scruffy face. It was actually a lot more difficult to choose something now that he'd had a proper look at it all. The objects were foreign to him. They resembled normal things, but had details that were... off-putting? They were confusing! The only thing that really caught his eye was a golden scepter that was fixed to a wall mount in the back of the room.

"Bingo!" That would do. He was no expert on scepters (he didn't personally know anyone who was), but this one looked pretty hot and heavy. Guess that's all scepter needed to be, right?

He smirked. A few long strides brought him close enough to snatch it. It was certainly a pretty thing. It was long, solid gold, and intricate. The emblem that was pressed into the head of it was was elaborate, but for the life of him Quill couldn't figure out what it was. Whatever. It didn't matter. What mattered was how much he would get for it once he busted his way out of here-

"Um. I wouldn't touch that."

Shit. Shit. Shit!

He was caught.