It was official. Peter did NOT like flame throwers. Fire hurts like a bitch and nobody should have a machine that can throw that shit. The throwers in question were being wielded by a couple of fugitives that the Nova Corps had them hunting. These two pricks had committed just about every crime in the book, aside from rape and murder, but by the way they were fighting, it looked like they might be reaching for the last one. The Guardians had the two perps corned in a shady bar. No one had thought to tell them that they had fricking flame throwers built into their skeletal system. Who the hell does that? Streams of fire flew from the cuffs around their hands, reaching out at the terrified people in the bar. Drax and Groot were trying their best to get everyone out safely but were having a hard time dodging the flames. So Peter decided to do what he did best. Distract the bad guys.

"I'm gonna try and draw the fire away from Groot and Drax." he told Gamora who was crouched down next to him behind an overturned table. She gave him a worried look as he popped up the collar of his red jacket.

"You are not going to challenge them to a dance off, are you?" she asked, gripping her knife tightly. Peter rolled his eyes and taped his earpiece, activating his helmet.

"That was one time." he grumbled, standing and running into the fight. Raising his own weapons, the Starlord shouted, "Hey, idjits!"

The two men turned to face him, halting their fiery attack for a moment, giving Drax and Groot enough time to get most of the patrons out of the now burning building. Peter continued taunting the arsonists, trying to buy his friends more time. From the corners of his eyes, he could see Gamora and Rocket sneaking around either side of him, trying to get behind the fugitives. "Why don't you try toasting this?"

Peter began firing round after round, managing to know one of them off their feet and over the bar. His comrade, however continued to rain fire on the human. Peter jumped over chairs and tables, before crouching behind tipped over table. A sudden cry of pain made Peter risk a glance over his makeshift shield. Gamora now had the fugitive that he had shot slammed up against the wall as she bound his arms behind his back. His partner turned away from the human. Rocket took that opportunity to make his move, sneaking up behind the last flame thrower with a gun nearly twice his size.

"Behind you." the perp that Gamora had shouted to his partner. Rocket barely had enough time to jump out of the way before the spot he was standing on was scorched. He rolled a few feet, his gun getting tossed from his tiny hands in the process. Everything seemed to slow down for Peter. He saw the fugitive aiming his fiery hands at the raccoon, who was on his hands and knees, trying to pick himself up, and he did the first ting he could think of. He ran.

With almost inhuman speed, he ran to his fallen friend and shielded him from the fire with his body. Peter screamed out as he felt the pain of the heat. God it burned. Well, no shit Sherlock. he thought to himself. Its fire searing your flesh, its gonna burn.

Suddenly the fire was gone, but he could still fell the heat. Peter clenched his eyes shut and bit his lip as he fell forward, passing out from the pain. Rocket scrambled away to avoid being landed on.

"Oh shit, Quill! You're on fire!" the mammal cried out. Drax stormed over to his fallen friend, and slapped his large hands against his back, trying to extinguish the flames that clung to the man's jacket.

"Get out of the way!" Gamora ordered, running to join them, a pitcher of water clenched in her hands. She threw it over the flames, putting them out with sizzles and hissing. The Starlord's trademark red coat was charred and burnt but seemed to have taken most of the damage. The green assassin dropped to her knees and turned the unconscious man over. She tapped his earpiece so his red eyed helmet dissolved away. His face was flushed from the heat but he looked otherwise unharmed. His blue eyes fluttered. He took a lazy look at his friends and gave them a weak smile. "Hey guys."

All of his friends, who had surrounded him, sighed with relief. Except for Rocket who was fuming. "You idiot! You could've died! What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I didn't want a barbequed raccoon for a friend." Peter chuckled weakly as Drax help him to his feet. He looked over and saw booth of the fugitives unconscious on the floor, one of them with Gamora's knife sticking out of his left butt cheek. He raised his eyebrows, deciding that he would wait 'till later to ask her about that. Rocket let out a ragged, frustrated sigh and pulled at the fur on his face. He turned away, muttering something under his breath. Peter smirked, "What was that?"

"I said thanks for saving my life, a-hole!" the thug shouted stormed out of the bar. Peter smiled.

"I think that's the nicest thing he's ever said to me." he chuckled, taking a woozy step forward. Drax was there to steady him, pulling one of his arms across his shoulders.

"I will escort you back to the ship, Quill." the large man said with his deep voice. Peter winced in pain with every movement.

"Could also escort me to the nearest painkillers?" he mumbled. Apparently, Rocket heard him.

"That's what you get for jumping in front of a flame thrower, dumbass!" Rocket shouted from outside. Peter smiled to himself, knowing that Rocket was secretly thanking him in his weird foul mouth way. He didn't mind, he was just glad his friend was alive.

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