Hehe... so I did not mean to go that long without updating AT ALL. I kinda got caught up in school and then procrastination and Netflix and all these other fics and yeah I'M SORRY T-T. And this isn't even that good of a chapter to offer you I've failed this story is going out of control. But it is longer? Hehe?

I'll try to update more frequently, but in the meantime I should be posting other fics to compensate!

(Also thank you so much to everyone who followed/favorited/REVIEWED you guys are the best!)

Enjoy!

The change that swept the room was drastic. All over the room, mercenaries, Spartoi, and Guardians alike turned from fighting each other to defend frantically against the attacking hordes of Chitauri as they swept the room, screams and the piercing crack of blaster fire echoing through the room.

Standing behind Gamora, Peter wasted no time. Taking advantage of the Spartax woman's distracted horror, he grabbed Gamora, pulling her with him as he took off into the chaos.

"Wait, stop!" the woman cried, turning around sharply. She moved to pursue them, only to be cut off by a snarling Chitauri warrior. Peter could just hear the Chitauri's shriek of pain as the woman's sword found its mark.

"Shit," he muttered, pulling Gamora faster as they sprinted away, desperately weaving through the crowds. They had nearly reached one of the exits when a Chitauri charged them, weapon raised. "Shit!"

Fast as lightning, Gamora swept her knife up to meet the Chitauri's spear, metal screeching on metal with a pealing burst. Forcing his arm up, she kicked him squarely in the middle, knife catching him in the throat as he fell. Behind her, Peter blocked another Chitauri's attack with his blaster, shoving the warrior away hard and blasting him. Spinning around, he continued to fire into the crowd, back to Gamora as enemy after enemy went down with a burst of energized light. Behind him, he could hear Gamora's even breathing as she parried with the Chitauris' energized spears, taking them down with the neat efficiency she'd been taught all her life. Peter felt a small burst of pride at how well they fought together.

The burst of pride quickly faded into growing panic as he scanned the room between blaster shots, eyes darting the crowds wildly in search of Rocket. He was pretty sure he could hear the raccoon off to the left, his voice challenging as the sound of high-pressure blaster fire erupted in its wake, but being separated from his teammate - his friend, one of the few he had that he'd promised to protect – wasn't a good situation for him.

In addition to that, there was the increasingly obvious fact that they could not hope to win this fight. The Spartax guards and mercenaries were putting up a decent fight against the Chitauri, but the hordes of warrior beings were steadily overwhelming the opposing forces. Not that they could trust either the mercenaries or the Spartax guards not to kill them either.

And then there lay the final fact that clutched in his arm, growing hotter and thrumming with an all-too uncomfortable sense of power, was the source of the fight – the Aether, bright red and drawing far too many people's attention. Damn Infinity Gems.

He was going to the Collector when they finished this.

"Peter!" Gamora yelled from behind him, obviously having noticed the increasing flow of Chitauri attacking them. "We need to get out of here!"

"I know, I know!" he yelled back, grunting as he kicked at a Chitauri, stumbling back against Gamora as he blasted the warrior. "Where's Rocket?!"

"Here, you d'ast idiots!" Peter felt a surge of relief as he caught sight of the raccoon, darting between the fighting crowds until he reached them, clambering up onto Peter's shoulder. The familiar click-whir of Rocket's blaster hummed beside Peter's ear as a barrage of blaster fire took out the wave of Chitauri in front of him.

"Thanks," he gasped, shifting the Aether in his grasp.

"Yeah, yeah, thank me when we get out of here," Rocket growled. He shifted his arm, wincing.

"Are you okay?"Peter asked, eyes focused on his enemies but tone concerned.

"I'm fine," Rocket said shortly. Peter cut him a glance. He could just see the faint staining of crimson forming at his shoulder.

"Like hell you are," he said, worried. "What happened to your shoulder?"

"It's nothin'," Rocket said. "Was bein' stupid and got nicked. We can treat it later."

"Rocket-"

"Later," Rocket growled. "We need to get out of here with that thing before we're all slaughtered. That thing is drawing people towards us like a damn beacon."

"We're working on it," Gamora said, slowly clearing a path for them as they moved towards the exit.

"Yeah, well work faster," Rocket said. "That crazy Spartax lady and big ugly Badoon freak look like they're heading our way."

Glancing to the side, Peter stifled a curse. Sure enough, the dark-haired Spartax leader was approaching them from one side, and the Chitauri's leader from another. Gamora hissed, yanking her knife out of a Chitauri.

"We make for the door," she said. "Now."

"Right, right," Peter said, wincing as Rocket's claws dug into his neck, gripping him tightly as he took off into a sprint behind Gamora, ducking and shooting as they went.

Peter thought they were doing pretty well, right up until a stun bolt hit him squarely between the shoulders.

He went down with a strangled scream, limbs twitching uncontrollably as the Aether flew out of his grasp, smashing into the floor with a splintering crack and tumbling into the fray. Between the painful flashes in his vision, he caught sight of the Spartax leader, blaster just lowering as she charged towards them.

"Damn it, Peter, don't clench up!" Rocket's panicked yell sounded from besides his ear. Peter went limp, involuntarily shuddering as the energy ran its course, fighting against the encroaching blackness at the edge of his vision.

Rocket cursed, adjusting his blaster as he fired viciously at the Spartax woman. The woman gave a cry of surprise as blaster fire nicked her in the arm, forcing her to throw herself to the side to take cover amongst the crowds of people fighting. If she was hoping other people would protect her, she was wrong – Rocket continued the relentless barrage of blaster fire, forcing her back.

As the painful effects of the stun bolt faded, Peter felt Gamora pull him to his feet, his vision blurring as his head throbbed.

"Fight it, Peter, come on," she said, voice low in his ear as she supported him. "Not now – please, not now-"

Peter bit his lip, dragging himself out of the darkness pulling at the edges of his consciousness.

"I'm good, I'm, good," he gasped, stepping back from her to demonstrate. "But – the Aether!" Gamora's eyes widened, and she whipped around, sharp eyes darting around the chaos.

"There," she said, eyes narrowing on the red glow several feet away, laying at the feet of a mercenary in battle with a Chitauri. Peter followed her gaze, then swore. Barely ten feet away and approaching quickly was the Badoon leader, eyes fixed on the Aether as he cut through the crowds.

"I've got him," Gamora said coolly, glaring at the leader as she stood, grip tightening on her knife. Before either Peter or Rocket could say a word, she charged forward, meeting the Badoon leader just in time to clash her knife against his sword's downward swing.

"No, Gam-" Peter muttered, moving to help her. Rocket lashed out to grab his arm, jerking him back.

"She doesn't need your help, idiot!" he yelled. "Aether! Now!"

Peter cast one desperate look at Gamora as she battled the Badoon, blades flashing in deadly accuracy. Groaning in agitation, he turned to Rocket, expression pained.

"You're right, you're right, let's go."

Turning back to the battling mercenary and Chitauri warrior, Peter surged forwards, Rocket darting in front of him. Energized spear swinging in a deadly arc, the Chitauri finally sent the mercenary crumpling to the ground, grinning savagely as he bent down towards the Aether.

"Hands off, ugly!" The Chitauri shrieked as Rocket leapt onto his shoulders, firing directly into the back of his skull. The Chitauri collapsed as Rocket jumped down, grabbing the Aether.

"Got it!" he yelled, turning to Peter.

"Okay, let's go!" Peter yelled, gesturing at Rocket to throw him the container.

"Watch out, this thing is one bump away from shattering!" Rocket yelled, preparing to throw the Aether. However, before he could throw the battered container to Peter, Gamora gave a pained cry, causing both Peter and Rocket to turn to her - just to see her stumble back, a light flow of blood running down her arm from where the Badoon had caught her.

Distracted by Gamora's plight, both Peter and Rocket missed the Spartax leader a she raised her blaster once again.

It happened in an instant. Rocket gave a cry of panic as blaster fire slammed near his hand, knocking the cracked container from his hand and shattering it open. The container fell as if in slow motion, the glowing crimson seeping out through the sides, arcing through the air as Peter dove forwards to catch it.

Peter heard Rocket's panicked warning just as his hands closed around the container, all efforts to avoid the red substance filtering out of the shattered container in vain. He braced himself for the horrific agony as his fingers met the crimson of the Infinity Stone.

It never came. Instead, the Aether surged towards him like a glowing red liquid, snaking up his arm as his very veins lit up, dark red. Peter had time only to give a sharp gasp of surprise before his vision flashed scarlet, a roaring sounding in his ears as the Aether flooded him.

Then everything faded to black.

The battle between Gamora and the Badoon ground to a halt as they both spun around at Rocket's cry, eyes widening as they watched the Aether absorbed into Peter, the half Terran giving only a small gasp before he crumpled to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut.

Gamora's heart stopped.

"Peter!" she screamed, abandoning the Badoon leader as she flew to his side, hands darting over him in panic. "Wake up, wake up, Peter-"

"Gamora!" Rocket yelled from behind her, barely holding off the Badoon with his blaster fire. "Gamora, we need to go now!"

Breathing harshly, Gamora nodded, crushing her fear as best she could as she slung Peter over her shoulders, grabbing his blaster and firing at the approaching Spartax leader.

With a shout of warning, Rocket threw the last flash bomb, the air echoing with cries as the blinding flash illuminated the room. Gamora and Rocket sprinted forwards, darting between the crowds of blinded people and out into the entrance hall. The angered roar of the Badoon leader echoed behind them as they sprinted into the warm night air, disappearing into the crowds of people swarming the streets, either running away or running to help.

"Groot!" Rocket yelled into his com unit. "Drax! Where are you?!" After an awful moment of crackling silence, Drax's voice finally filtered through.

"The landing bay, Dock 23 C," Drax's voice said, sounding concerned. "But Rocket-"

"Save it for later!" Rocket yelled, forcing his way through the pedestrians. Gamora followed close behind, Peter unconscious on her back. "Fire up the engines, we'll be there in a minute!"

Before Drax could get in another word, Rocket cut the connection, trading the com unit for his gun.

"23 C, let's go," he muttered, throwing a glance behind them as they ran. Their pursuers were, for now, blessedly out of sight. "How's Peter?"

"I don't know," Gamora said, voice tight and expression hard as she stumbled slightly from his weight. "Rocket, I don't know."

Rocket swore, fingers clenching around his gun, continuing to sprint towards the landing bay.

Weaving in and out through the screaming crowds, it took what felt like an eternity for them to reach the Milano. By the time the orange and blue ship came into view Gamora nearly wept in relief, her arms burning as she struggled to keep up the quick pace with Peter's limp weight on her back. The only relief she found was in the small, near-imperceptible breaths she felt against the back of her neck – proof that Peter was, for now, still alive.

She absolutely could not afford the growing anxiety as she realized she had little idea what was actually wrong with him – other than the stone of mass destruction that had been absorbed into his krutacking bloodstream-

Not now. Not with the threat they were dealing with.

"DRAX!" Rocket roared as they reached the Milano, quickly making for the entrance. "Groot! Get this d'ast thing fired up! We need to leave now!"

"I am Groot!"

"Thank the stars, you have returned," Drax said as Rocket darted in through the entrance first. "There were a concerning amount of Chitauri roaming the streets. We feared-" he paused as he caught sight of Gamora pulling Peter's unconscious form through the entrance.

"What happened?" he asked, forehead creasing in concern. "Is he alright?"

"I don't know, Gamora doesn't know, the galaxy doesn't frickin' know," Rocket bit out harshly, making for the flight deck.

"I am Groot?" Groot moved forward, eyes wide.

"We don't have time for that now, let's frickin' go!" with that remark Rocket clambered up the ladder. Drax's eyes widened, and he moved after Rocket.

"Rocket – no, wait-"

"Can you wait 'til we're outta here, we've got a horde of d'ast Chitauri on our heels -"

"Rocket, we cannot-"

"-so unless you wanna pick a fight with them, be my guest-"

"The ship-"

"I'm workin' on it, I-" Rocket frowned as the usual whir of the Milano's engine failed to stutter to life. His fingers flew over the controls, pulling up readings. "What the hell-"

"That is what I've been trying to tell you!" Drax exploded. "The ship is dead!"

"What?!" Gamora called from below, leaving Peter on the bunk as she threw herself up the ladder.

"There is something wrong with the ship," Drax informed her.

"No, no, no – no!" Rocket cried in frustration, smashing the control panel. "Dammit- not now!"

"Rocket?!"

"Shit – shit, the engine must've given out – dammit, how the hell did this happen?!"

"Rocket!" Gamora finally yelled at him, cutting off his cursing. "Rocket. Can we get anywhere in this ship. Anywhere at all."

"No," Rocket bit out. "She's not goin' anywhere." Gamora squeezed her eyes closed, hands clenching in her hair as if to rip it out.

"Okay," she breathed. "Okay. Grab what you can and lock down the ship – we're leaving."

"What? Where?" Drax asked, looking at her in surprise. Groot echoed his confusion with a mournful "I am Groot?"

"Anywhere but here," Gamora snapped, jumping down the ladder.

Moving quickly to her bunk, she yanked off her dress, changing into her standard battle gear. Grabbing a bag from the corner of her room, she began tossed her weapons in haphazardly, moving out into the common area. She found the rest of her teammates doing the same, quickly gathering what they could – she was mildly impressed to see them nailing the basic necessities.

"Grab the medkit, will ya?" Rocket called to her as he clambered back up the ladder. "I'm gonna lock her down."

Gamora nodded, throwing the slim case into her bag. Hurrying through the ship, she made her way to Peter's bunk. Groot was seated next to him, eyes creased in concern.

"I am Groot."

Gamora shook her head.

"Come on, Peter," she whispered, grabbing his wrist and feeling the steady pulse, reassuring herself. "We need you."

She bit her lip when she received no response. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Groot.

"Is there any way you can carry him without calling attention to us?"

"I will help with that," Drax said as he stepped into the room, knife at his belt as he clutched his bag. Hauling Peter up, he looped one arm around his shoulder, gesturing for Groot to do the same.

"Drunk," he explained. Gamora shrugged.

"With him, it wouldn't be a surprise." As long as they appeared normal – well, normal enough.

"Alright, people, we need to blow this place," Rocket said, sliding down the flight deck's ladder. "Ship's set to lockdown."

"You have your things?"

"Yup," Rocket said, holding up the small bag. "Even if the Chitauri catch us, we'll be able to go out with a bang – and everything else in a five mile radius."

"Sounds great," Gamora said flatly. Rummaging through Peter's room, she quickly gathered what essentials she could. Finally, she carefully placed his Walkman and headphones into her own bag.

"Okay," she said, looking at the others. "Let's go."

Adjusting her sword, Victoria of Spartax swore. In a matter of seconds, a simple undercover retrieval had turned into a bloody, all-out battle – one that could very well spell war for her people, given the nature of the attackers.

"M'lady!"

Yanking her sword out of the nearest Chitauri warrior, Victoria spun to face her second in command.

"The Aether," he gasped, his own weapon dripping with Chitauri blood. "They're gone - with it."

"Of course they are" she hissed, scanning the chaotic room. "As if they'd stick around after that – curse him, that wasn't supposed to happen!"

She'd seen the Aether absorbed into the Terran. It was impossible to miss. She had no idea how long his body could support the powerful substance – she'd heard stories, but no conclusions had ever been proved – but that hardly mattered. What mattered was that R'narin had seen it as well – and that the Aether had escaped their reach.

At least it wasn't in his hands.

"We need to go," she said, grunting as she parried a strike. "Alert the men – we're leaving."

"And the Aether?"

"I'll worry about that when my men are safe," she snapped. Regroup and get to safety – they could track down the Guardians soon enough.

Her second in command nodded, barking out orders to the remaining Spartax soldiers. She could just hear the sounds of them regrouping when R'narin's harsh voice cut through the air.

"Leaving so soon, Captain?"

The name was spoken with derision, and the Badoon general's eyes glittering with malice as he approached her.

"R'narin," she spat, raising her sword. "Last I'd heard, you were slinking off to your banishment."

"A mistake my people will soon come to regret," he said, lip curling as he circled her. "But not nearly as much as your filthy empire."

"Our 'filthy empire' is more than capable of crushing whatever you throw at us, R'narin, as we always have," she returned, eyes calculating as they circled each other.

"Really," R'narin said, tone sly. "So your king has not fallen to such desperation now that he seeks the power of an Infinity Stone?"

"Our king is hardly desperate," Victoria glared. "He is-"

"On his throne, cowering behind the safety of his people, while he sends his own child to do his dirty work."

"You dare-"

"Ah, excuse me," R'narin smirked. "Adopted child."

Victoria merely glared.

"I fail to see how any of this is important," she snapped. "And you talk too much."

She charged forward, sword swinging up in a deadly trajectory. R'narin met it with his own, the metallic peal of the two weapons clashing ringing harshly. Countering his blows, Victoria moved steadily back. She was by no means a poor fighter – quite the opposite, in fact, to have reached her status – but R'narin had years of experience and a savage ruthlessness she could not hope to stand against for long.

Not here, at any rate.

A downwards strike missed her head by inches, the sharp whistling ringing in her ears as her heart jumped. Sparing another glance behind her, she just caught sight of her men fighting their way to the door. Time to go.

Glaring at R'narin, she reached to her belt.

"This isn't over," she hissed at him. R'narin's eyes widened as she removed the device, springing forward as she switched it on.

A high pitched blast rent the air as a thick cloud of smoke erupted in R'narin's face, obscuring his view. The general coughed harshly, blinking back the instinctive tears from the smoke. When his vision finally cleared, he swore. The Spartax detail was gone.

Gamora walked swiftly through the crowded streets, the rest of the Guardians not far behind. The city was, predictably, in an uproar. The people around them were either hurrying back and forth or yelling in heated, angry voices. They had yet to see any sign of the Chitauri, but Gamora had little doubt that safety would last, especially if the angry conversations were anything to go by. The minute they discovered the Aether was gone, the warrior race would be hot in pursuit.

Glancing behind her, she locked eyes with Drax, his face caught in the same on-edge expression of tension she was sure hers was. Glancing to his side, she stared at Peter, eyes still closed and slumped in unconsciousness. Her throat tightened.

Pushing her fear away for the moment, she turned her attention back to the streets. They could walk for a while, but they would eventually need somewhere to hide, to plan their next move and recover the best they could. She cut Rocket a glance. The raccoon was resting wearily on Groot's shoulder, the clothing at his shoulder steadily growing darker.

"Rocket," she hissed, glaring at him. He returned her glare half-heartedly.

"What?"

"You need to put pressure on that!"

Rocket gave his shoulder a disparaging look, shrugging.

"It's not that bad."

"Rocket."

"Fine, fine." Tearing off the edge of his jacket, Rocket pressed at his shoulder, face contorting in a wince. Gamora resisted the urge to swear.

Make that another reason they needed to stop somewhere.

"Gamora," Drax said, voice low. "Where are we going?"

"I'm open to suggestions," she muttered, eyes darting across the city's buildings.

"There's a hotel there, I believe."

"They'll be expecting that," she snapped. "They'll be searching everywhere, there's basically nowhere – I don't know –"

"I am Groot." Groot's hand rested gently on her shoulder, cutting off her increasingly frantic ramblings. Gamora took a deep breath.

"Alright," she breathed. "Okay. They'll be expecting us to go somewhere safe, somewhere smart." She bit her lip, gazing at the bright lights of a hospital. "Then we go somewhere stupid."

The others merely looked at her, faces apprehensive.

"And how are getting' in, exactly?" Rocket drawled. Gamora turned to him, pointedly looking at his shoulder.

"Oh."

The Lady Sif of Asgard was in a bit of a predicament.

Granted, this mess wasn't exactly her fault – she and Volstagg could hardly be blamed for Taneleer Tivan's failure, unexpected as it was. It had been necessary, separating the two Infinity Stones, and as far as had been concerned, there was no safer place in the galaxy than under the Collector's watch.

Apparently not anymore, however. At least where Infinity Stones were concerned. Two were concerning enough – but the news of a third only made things more concerning. Thanos was growing bold.

Sif bit her lip. It was useless to worry about such things now, not when she and Volstagg had such a pressing issue to deal with. The loss of the Aether was a crippling blow. And if Thanos got to the stone before them- Sif shuddered.

"Blast him," Volstagg cursed from the controls of their ship, guiding them away from the eerie lights of Knowhere. "He should have called us immediately. Not these… Guardians."

"Apparently, they contained a first stone well enough," Sif replied crisply. "Let us hope their character remains as true with the Aether."

"Let's hope their strength does, too," Volstagg muttered. "From what we've heard, they'll have plenty of trouble coming their way."

"Which is why we must find them as quickly as possible," Sif said, staring at the ship's readouts.

"And you're sure you don't want to inform the Allfather?" Volstagg questioned. Sif's hands tightened.

"You know well enough my suspicions," she said darkly. "There is something…off… in Asgard." She shook her head. "No, we keep this to ourselves. For now."

"Does that mean you've rethought your plan?" Volstagg asked hopefully,

"No," Sif bit out. "As I said before, this particular detail is unavoidable." Volstagg groaned.

"Fine, fine," he muttered. "But you'd best make the call." Sif glared at him, but she was already reaching for the communication unit.

"Let us hope our relations with the Spartax Empire have improved since last time," she muttered as she opened the call. Volstagg held his breath as the holographic screen shimmered into existence, the Spartax guard screen appearing. Sif cleared her throat.

"Lady Sif, Shield-Maiden of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms, requesting audience with his Imperial Highness, J'son of Spartax." She paused. "I wish to speak with him on matters concerning the gems. It will be in his best interest to answer."

A beat of silence passed before a cool, female voice replied.

"His Imperial Highness will answer you shortly, Lady Sif."

Sif stifled the urge to groan.

"Nicely said."

"Oh, would you be silent for once-"

"Lady Sif."

"Oh - King J'son," Sif said hurriedly, turning to the screen with a bow of respect. "I thank you for honoring my request."

Volstagg edged back slightly as the Spartax royal appeared in full. With his copper colored hair and lightly tanned skin, he appeared human enough. But the piercing, luminescent blue eyes of J'son of Spartax were only one of the signs that the man was anything but. On closer look, his skin seemed to glow with a faint light, the air about him thick with an unearthly presence. With his intense gaze, it was small wonder many people found him terrifying.

"Enough with the pleasantries," he said coolly, fixing Sif with his stare. "You claimed to have news of the Infinity Stones?"

"Of one, in particular," Sif replied, tone matching his in its coolness. "The Aether. Though I'm sure you know enough about it by now."

The king's lip curled.

"You were foolish to put your faith in the Collector," he said. Sif felt a flare of anger.

"Until recently, his collection was the safest place in the galaxy. We had no reason to doubt." She said fiercely. "And that is not of near great importance as the issue at hand is, your majesty. There is an Infinity Stone loose in the galaxy, free for Thanos' taking."

"I admire your concern, Lady Sif," J'son said, unperturbed. "But my guards are taking care of the issue as we speak. You need not worry."

"Begging your pardon, your majesty, but are your guards prepared to take on both the Collector's emissaries and a legion of Chitauri warriors led by one of your enemy, the exiled Badoon general?" Sif bit out.

A flash on emotion crossed J'son's face, and Sif repressed a smirk.

"I see your sources have failed to inform you on this point."

"I know of R'narin's deceit. But that Thanos would sink so low as to ally himself with him…" J'son lips tightened. "Perhaps I have… underestimated…. the situation at hand."

"Which is why we seek an alliance," Sif implored. "We must retrieve the Aether before R'narin gets his hands on it."

"Very well," J'son replied after a pause. "A temporary alliance may be in order." Sif inclined her head in thanks.

"The recent battle with Malekith has left our troops considerably weakened, but I can gather a unit of our warriors in three days time," Sif said. "We will take what measures necessary to secure the Aether."

"I will send another force to aid in my Captain's efforts against the Chitauri," J'son added. "Our combined forces should prove enough to hold off R'narin until the Aether is safe on Spartax."

"We can discuss terms of ownership later," Sif bit out. "Our priority is securing it from Thanos."

J'son nodded, though Sif didn't like the gleam in his eyes.

"And what of these Guardians? Do they present a threat?"

"Not necessarily," Sif replied thoughtfully. "According to reports, they seem to have primarily benevolent motives. Likely they are simply acting on a job."

"Benevolent motives or not, it would be unwise to trust them with the stone for much longer," J'son said sharply. "Who, exactly, are we dealing with?"

"A very… eclectic group of people," Sif sighed. "The most concerning is the assassin Gamora – Thanos' daughter, though she seems to refute that title now."

J'son frowned.

"I had heard of her treachery. The reality of such a claim remains to be seen."

"I believe she has proven her loyalties," Sif said stiffly. "Reports do say she helped save Xandar."

"Reports," J'son said skeptically. "Are not always fact. If she has truly betrayed her father, then she will have little issue with surrendering the Aether."

"Issue with you, I wouldn't blame her," Volstagg muttered from off screen. Sif whacked him sharply in the knee. J'son continued, oblivious.

"And the others?"

"Drax the Destroyer, lesser known but no less dangerous, his motives seem sound enough," Sif continued. "A Flora Colossus and a genetically modified experiment – with Terran origins, I believe. And a former Ravager who calls himself Star-lord."

"Star-lord?" J'son's eyes narrowed.

"I doubt it's a purposeful reference," Sif assured. "He's not from here – a Terran named Peter Quill, I believe."

J'son jerked, eyes widening. Sif raised an eyebrow.

"Quill," J'son muttered slowly, clearly shaken. Sif exchanged a glance with Volstagg. Rattling the great J'son of Spartax's composure twice in one sitting was unheard of, if not impossible. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Sif said slowly. "Is that-"

"None of your concern," J'son cut her off abruptly. "A coincidence. I will contact you as soon as my troops are in position. Inform Asgard of my thanks."

And with that the holoscreen cut off, leaving Sif in Volstagg in a stunned silence.

"Well that was odd," Volstagg remarked. Sif frowned.

"That was uncharacteristic," she muttered. "What has him so upset?"

"Besides the whole Aether disaster?" Sif rolled her eyes.

"Obviously," she huffed. "But when I mentioned Quill…" she shook her head.

"Never mind. We need to move."

"As you command, m'lady" Volstagg muttered, guiding the ship into the stars.