Bella sat rigidly in what appeared to be the cargo bay of the spaceship, carefully observing and cataloging her surroundings as Hawkeye sat by her cleaning his bow. Hawkeye had collected the few arrows that he had loosed on the plain and was now cleaning them up and putting them back into his quiver. He only had six arrows, and barely any Bat Utility arrowheads left. They both kept a close eye on the stranger as he entered the room again. She glanced around the corner and noticed a tall man, clearly alien, standing by the door. He and the stranger discussed something for a moment before the stranger entered, probably to find out what they were doing in this neck of the woods.

"You're lucky we found you," He told them told them, "A lot of these mercenaries eat their prisoners."

"I may be lean meat," Hawkeye smiled crookedly, "but I'm sure she'd probably give them food poisoning."

Bella glanced at Hawkeye, and gave him a glance that would chew the shine off a tank. Hawkeye wasn't bothered in the slightest.

"I guess they followed your energy signature to see if there's anything to steal. I'm Starlord, by the way," he said with a cheesy grin.

Hawkeye cocked his head, "are you the five-0?"

"Do I look like McGarrett to you?" he replied, "No, I'm Starlord, captain of the Milano and leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy."

"Pretentious much?" Hawkeye shrugged, "I don't know a Starlord, do you, B?

Bella shrugged.

Quill chose to ignore the slap to his ego and changed the subject, mentioning to Bella, "does she say anything or is she just there for show?"

"Her husband does enough talking for the both of them," Hawkeye said simply, "she doesn't trust you, and despite the impressive length of your rank, neither do I."

Peter wasn't fazed, "I scanned you when you came in," he looked at Hawkeye, "you're human," then he looked at Bella, "you're not."

Bella and Hawkeye exchanged glances.

"I thought there was something wrong with you."

"Who are you?" Peter Quill asked again.

Hawkeye glanced at Bella for her confirmation, "Hawkeye."

"Who?"

"Barton, Earth, Avengers," Hawkeye said with a sigh, "you missed a lot of stuff while Star Trek-ing."

"You think you're funny, don't you?"

"Funny? I think I'm adorable," Barton grinned.

"Rodriguez, Isabella," she narrowed her eyes, "Gunnery sergeant, Marine Corps 49969872." In the Corps, she had that drummed into her, when captured; only state your name, rank and service number, nothing more.

Quill pulled a face, "say again?"

"Rodriguez, Isabella. Gunnery sergeant Marine Corps, 49969872," she repeated her rehearsed statement yet again.

Peter Quill looked at her almost as though she had dribbled on her shirt, "you're kidding."

"She'd never kid about something like that," Barton said in a salty tone, "Frosties are forever."

Bella arched an eyebrow, choosing to ignore Hawkeye's snide remark, "you've heard of me?"

"Lady Isabella Rodriguez of Detroit, pride of the second prince of Asgard, jewel of the Nine Realms and warrior princess of Midgard," Peter arched an eyebrow, "everybody's heard of you, especially the way those Jotuns talk."

"Is that your official title?" Hawkeye asked.

"Well, fuck me."

"That's not a very good name for a princess," Barton said stiffly, "besides, Detroit must have split to reduce their collective debt. They're a realm now; I wonder how that's working for them."

Peter arched an eyebrow, "I'll be back. Don't go anywhere."

Hawkeye took a glance at their guard, tall, broad and infinitely nasty, "Tiny's incentive enough; thanks."