It takes two hours of trawling through space for Murlainn's ship to come into view.
The vessel is as ugly as her captain; a meshwork of scrap that appears to be second-hand, with twisted metal turrets emerging from the main body. At a guess, Yondu would say she's stolen goods and must have been acquired recently. He doesn't recognise the design from previous meetings with the Ravagers, and it's far too small to house the sizable crew Murlainn led in his heyday. Cutting himself off from Stakar must have damaged any goodwill he inspired, leaving him with only those as despicable as himself while those with a sliver of a conscience fled or were slain for their defiance.
Yondu can't know any of this for sure, but the patchwork appearance of his adversary's home does send a flicker of hope through his chest. It's a sign that Murlainn may be more vulnerable than he appears, which will only make destroying him all the more effortless.
As the stolen M-ship makes a casual approach to the docking bay, Yondu places her on auto-pilot and drags Sionnach's body towards the pilot's seat to keep up appearances. The man is slightly less of a mess than his now eyeless companion, and though it takes some effort to stop him from keeling over, anyone paying attention should see what appears to be a familiar, living pilot onboard. Of course, if they decide to be thorough and scan for life then the charade will be up, but Yondu doubts they'll go that far. Such measures would be expected of a more sophisticated crew than the one he's likely to encounter.
Yondu wastes his remaining few minutes preparing for what's to come. Digging through the ship's supplies unearths some painkillers which helps dull the throbbing in his head, and though part of him still wants to collapse, the adrenaline coursing through his veins is enough to keep him alert. His arrow rests in his hands, thrumming whenever he silently calls to it. The weapon won't let him down – it never has – so long as he maintains his focus on what he has to do. He can't allow himself to go soft for an instant; as soon as he's outside he needs to eliminate every man he sees. The only exception will be if any of them threaten Peter, but even then, he doubts they'll be willing to damage their cargo any more than they already have.
This should be simple, though his traitorous heart roaring in his chest makes it seem otherwise.
He can't help but smirk when he remembers Peter's small whisper of "You've hurt people." It's true, he has. It's an instinct as ingrained into him as breathing, and the fact that he's about to hurt a hell of a lot more for the boy's sake is strangely poetic. Perhaps the thought of the bodies he's going to bury this very day should disturb him, just as it will Peter if he sees it, but the only thing that grips him as the M-ship is guided into the belly of Murlainn's vessel is anticipation.
Not leaping out all-guns-blazing demands more patience than he likely possesses, but as the ship shudders to a halt he somehow manages it. The silence stretches with an agonising slowness, and Yondu becomes aware of every breath escaping his lungs as he closes his eyes. There's a humming beyond the thin walls that suggests the area's being sealed off, separated from the vacuum of space, and not long after a final crash reverberates around the hangar, Yondu's thoughts are interrupted by a voice coming over the comms.
"Ya can come out now, guys. Cap'n wants us to head within the hour."
Yondu doesn't react. Part of him itches to simply emerge now and unleash hell, but he can guess that there's at least one eye on the M-ship at present. The voice has access to the comms, therefore has the means to alert the entire ship if, say, some random blue man were to emerge from the ship in place of his friends. The longer Yondu can put off widespread pandemonium the better. Admittedly, he knows it's something he can't avoid altogether and he needs to get out of here before he finds himself halfway to Ego's planet, but a lack of patience is likely to get him killed if he isn't careful.
"Chaorach? Sio?" The formless voice rings throughout the ship once more, a sliver of impatience slipping into his tone. "Are you guys bein' assholes and ignorin' me again? Cause now's really not the time."
The clock is ticking. Yondu finally dares sneak a glimpse beyond the window to the bay beyond, and he can see the comms tower straight ahead with a lone crewmember staring his way with suspicion. There doesn't seem to be many ships in the hall – Yondu's limited view shows only one besides his own – and for a vessel that's planning an onward journey in the coming minutes, there's little evidence of activity. Perhaps the bay is further from the main hub of the ship than he's come to expect from the Eclector's layout.
It doesn't take long for two guards to emerge from the double-doors at the end of the hangar and approach the stolen M-ship. They're armed, but their weapons will be no match for his arrow, and they seem more concerned with their own conversation than the possibility of a fight.
Perhaps Murlainn and his crew really did think they could make it this far without trouble.
Yondu takes a deep breath in preparation before rising to his feet and standing before the ramp of the M-ship, not moving an inch when he hears a bang followed by one of the guard's voices.
"You guys alright in there?"
When no answer presents itself, a flurry of movement from outside occurs and Yondu can hear the mechanical whine of the ramp being lowered. It's barely halfway to the ground before he's brought face-to-face with the two men, their casual grip on their weapons suggesting they weren't expecting an attack, and a vicious sneer crosses his face when he welcomes the new arrivals with a whistle.
Fear barely has sink in for the guards before they're collapsing with sizzling holes in their chests, and for good measure Yondu aims for the comms tower to take out the man residing there. The slaughter is over in mere seconds. He takes a moment upon his arrow's return to listen for any alarm being raised, only to hear nothing. There's a chance that someone will later check the cameras and spot the dead men in the hangar, but for now the ship is eerily quiet even in the face of danger.
Good. That's as ideal a situation as Yondu could have hoped for.
He doesn't waste any time after that. He steps over his prone victims to avoid the pooling blood and emerges into the vast hangar, walking towards the doors with purpose. They slide open as he approaches, leading onto a long, seemingly deserted corridor, though the distant sounds of activity are finally making themselves known. The hum of machinery is clearer here as pipes and vents sneak behind steel walls, and footfalls from the floor above suggest the crew are busier than the earlier quiet suggested. Yondu stalks forwards without slowing, keeping his ears peeled for any activity to avoid another sneak-attack, and he can't mistake the bloodlust that's flowing through him now. The logical part of his brain wants to end this quickly and get Peter off this ship, but he can't deny the part that wants to drag this out and enjoy it for as long as possible.
That's a part of his mind he'll have to shut out for now. Wasting time to indulge in every kill will only increase his chances of failure.
The ship's corridors become less industrial in appearance as he wanders deeper into her heart; cold steel slowly replaced with painted white. The sounds of nearby activity grow louder with every step, and he finds himself slowing to a halt as voices finally emerge from a side corridor. They're getting closer, at least two men locked in conversation, and Yondu listens in the hope of gleaning any useful information while his arrow remains primed at his side.
"…ya hear what Ego's offerin' for the kid? No wonder Cap'n's goin' to all this trouble."
"Aye. What was it, ten million? What brat's worth that much?"
"This one apparently. Don' know why; the runt's a little beast. Ya hear he tried to tear Griogair's throat out with 'is teeth?"
"Didn't hear that. 'eard he bit Conal's hand when he made a grab for 'im though. Kid ain't worth the effort by the sound o' it."
"Tell that to Murlainn. 'e's the one who was so desperate to find 'im. Ya can bet we won't see a penny o' that reward money, I'm tellin ya that now."
The voices are now accompanied by loud footsteps as the pair grow closer, unaware of the danger lurking around the corner. Yondu isn't surprised that Peter's apparently kept fighting all this time, but any pride is overshadowed by his concern over what punishment such actions will have wrought. Murlainn wouldn't dare kill Peter, but there are other ways to hurt someone. Yondu can't help the sudden desire to speed things along in order to spare the boy from any horrors he may soon be exposed to.
He starts by unleashing his arrow upon the two men emerging from the side-corridor, and they collapse mid-conversation without realising what hit them.
This time, Yondu's actions don't go unnoticed. There's a cry of horror from the end of the main corridor that has him looking into the eyes of a man he hadn't seen before now. The newcomer turns on his heel and runs, still screaming, but Yondu's arrow is faster and quickly pierces its victim through the heart. His panicked cries have been heard, however, and the distant activity grows louder by the second as curious eyes are led to the source of the commotion. In the blink of an eye, the empty corridor fills with men emerging from branching rooms, and Yondu doesn't have time to think before he lets his heart take over and sends his arrow whizzing through the gathering crowds.
The screams and gasps of dying men forms a grotesque symphony as Yondu starts moving again, walking along the corridor with a strange calm as enemies fall around him. Even the few who survive long enough to charge at him are vanquished quickly; the arrow boosted by a drive Yondu hasn't had in months. As the terrified screams of "He's here!" and a harsh alarm overwhelms the ship, Yondu lets the arrow take on a life of its own, mowing down unsuspecting crew-members as it goes from room to room. Any regard for his own life is forgotten as he draws closer to what he assumes to be the flight-deck.
His mind only gives the arrow one instruction as it goes on a rampage, the message emphasised by the glowing red of his headpiece.
Harm no child, he tells it, knowing deep down it will obey. Don't hurt Peter.
It isn't long before the screaming reaches its coda. Soon enough, the only men Yondu encounters are already dead; blank eyes staring at him accusingly as he passes. A better man may have been disturbed by the sight of such deeds, but he can't afford such a weakness here and instead simply ploughs on, kicking aside any body that gets in his way. The alarm is still ringing but the panicked response to it has lessened in the last few minutes. What few men remain alive are no longer a concern, and even when one does emerge from the shadows to shakily aim a gun at Yondu, his fearful expression becomes blank as the arrow returns via his heart.
Eventually even the alarm dies, though the echoes of its incessant ringing still pierce Yondu's ears. The new silence is oddly refreshing despite the brutality that caused it, and Yondu lets his eyes wander around a corridor now filled only with ghosts. The once spotless white of the walls is spattered with various shades of blood - ranging from red to blue to grey - with none of his own having been spilled. He isn't entirely unscathed though; now that the adrenaline is wearing off, so too are the effects of the painkillers, and that faint throb is returning slowly but surely.
He only has one more person to finish off before he can end this and rest. It seems like days since he awoke on the peaceful outpost, his back aching thanks to an ancient chair, and the desire to get off this vessel and forget the events of the last few hours is overwhelming.
The flight deck isn't far ahead. Though his body suddenly protests at movement, Yondu forces one foot in front of the other as he drags himself closer to the man who caused all this. Yondu wonders how much Murlainn has seen of his crew's slaughter; wonders if he knows the boogeyman is approaching him too. Though it would be best if Murlainn were wholly ignorant, Yondu knows this cannot be the case. Besides, there's a certain thrill in imagining the man who's caused him so much grief cowering in terror.
That's not exactly what he finds.
The doors to the flight deck open without protest, bringing Yondu face to face with Murlainn waiting on the pilot's seat, his expression unchanging as his assailant arrives. Peter is nowhere to be seen – Yondu can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing – and though displayed footage from the ship clearly shows the bodies of his men, Murlainn doesn't seem to be armed or even have any intention of attacking. To Yondu's surprise, the man seems… resigned. His face is white as a sheet but gives no other indication of terror. Instead, he merely sends a polite nod Yondu's way before staring at the arrow with calm anticipation.
Yondu sends it towards Murlainn as intended, but instead of aiming for the heart he guides it into his stomach instead. This gets the man to lose his feigned chill as he curses in pain and keels over, clutching his wound and collapsing to the floor. Blood spills over his hands, though sluggishly, and he stumbles back against the console before staring up at Yondu and coughing out a harsh laugh.
"Nice to see you too, Udonta," Murlainn says breathlessly. He reaches up to the console and blindly feels around until his hand grasps a hip-flask, which he then brings to his lips. Whatever's contained within causes his face to screw up, but he recovers quickly and extends the flask to Yondu. "One last drink?"
"Where's the boy?" Yondu asks plainly, ignoring the offer in favour of carrying out what he came here to do. His question draws another laugh from Murlainn, and spots of blood bubble against his lips.
"Safe," he promises, and despite everything that's happened, Yondu believes him. "Had to rough 'im up a little – he wouldn't stop fightin' you see – but he ain't hurt bad. You'll find 'im in one of the store cupboards in the cargo hold."
Suspicion nags at Yondu's spine even though every instinct screams at him that Murlainn is telling the truth. He knows him well enough by now to recognise a lie. "Why are ya tellin' me this?"
"Because you'd torture me if I didn't, an' I ain't gettin' out o' this alive anyway," Murlainn says matter-of-factly, taking another sip and closing his eyes as the alcohol starts to have the desired effect. He extends the offer again, and this time Yondu takes the flask before settling on the floor in front of his conquest. "I won' pretend to know why ya care so much for the boy, but I've jus' watched ya wipe out my entire crew to get to 'im. I know a losin' battle when I see one."
Yondu shrugs at the response, knowing it's about as good as he's going to get, and takes a sip from the flask. The Xandarian whisky that passes his lips is a strong one, but the burn it sends down his throat is pleasant. He closes his eyes as a fire spreads throughout his chest, and returns Murlainn's smile when he passes the flask back to the dying man.
"Good stuff, ain't it?" Murlainn says proudly, before settling the silver flask on the floor. He winces as the movement pulls at his wound, and his hands instinctively press harder on his stomach as though doing so will keep the blood in a little longer. "Look, I gotta ask. Why the change in heart?"
When Yondu's only response to that is a raised eyebrow, Murlainn elaborates.
"You were Ego's most reliable supplier once. Brought 'im every kid he asked for, no questions asked. Until one day, some Terran comes along and ya don' show up, even when the price gets racked up higher an' higher. It can't have been fun, dealin' with assholes like me who wanted to take the boy off yer hands, so why go through all the trouble of keepin' him?"
The reminder that Ego once relied on him and that the entire galaxy seemed to know this has shame pooling in Yondu's gut. "I didn' know what he was doin' to the kids we sent. I wouldn' have done any of it if I'd known."
"Bullshit," Murlainn spits, though it lacks the venom one might expect. His eyes close as he draws in a painful breath, and there's a surprising amount of sincerity in their black depths when he opens them again. "We all knew wha' he was doing, we jus' didn't want to admit it to ourselves. Didn' matter if we felt like shit so long as the money was good."
"If knowin' what he was doin' makes ya feel like shit, why keep doin' it?" Yondu hisses, not bothering to hide his fury this time around. True, his ignorance over Ego's deeds should have subsided earlier, but as soon as he found out about the atrocities he was helping commit, he ran away. He took Peter and tried to keep him safe, even when he was hounded by those who wanted the rewards the boy would bring.
That doesn't make him a good man, he knows that. Hell, he only fought so hard to protect Peter at first because doing so helped ease his conscience; helped him believe he wasn't totally irredeemable even when Stakar's exile suggested otherwise.
It takes Murlainn a while to answer him. His eyes become fixed on an unremarkable spot on the floor, and Yondu would think he was dead if he didn't break out of his reverie to reach for the flask. The burn as the whisky goes down seems to hurt this time around, and the sight of Murlainn's wince is a satisfying one.
"I know I'm a piece of shit," he admits eventually, a weak smile pulling at his lips without meeting his eyes. "I let the promise of money make my decisions for me, I won' lie about that. But ya should have seen some o' the places we found those kids, Yondu. Most of 'em were on the streets, either cooking in the sun or freezin' every night. They didn' have enough to eat. They sure as hell didn' have any mothers around."
"See, we 'ad a choice. We could leave 'em on their planets to suffer and die slowly - or worse, be sold into slavery. Or we could take 'em to Ego. The guy's a monster, but one thing ya can say for 'im is that he don' want to hurt his children. He makes sure they don' suffer, not like they would at home."
Yondu scoffs, and the urge to grab the flask off Murlainn and down the rest threatens to take over. This isn't a conversation that sober men should be having. "Is that what ya told yerself to make ya feel better? That handin' those kids over was the kind thing to do?"
"Didn' make it feel any better," Murlainn says, raising his eyes to meet Yondu's. "I lost most of my crew cause of what I did. I cut myself off from someone who might as well have been a father. Worst part is, I know I deserve all that. But the money… for a long time, the money made it feel like it was worth it."
"It wasn't," Yondu says. Murlainn looks back to the still-playing footage from his ship – sees his crew reduced to broken shells – and nods in bitter agreement.
They descend into silence after that. The flask gets passed back and forth, getting lighter each time it reaches Yondu's hands, and he can feel a pleasant buzz simmering beneath his skin. He doesn't drink enough to mess with his mind – Murlainn may be dying, but he's still a threat so long as he breathes – but it's enough for the alcohol to wipe the pain from his head and the exhaustion from his bones. It's Murlainn who finishes it, tipping the remaining contents into his mouth before throwing the silver aside and resting his head against the body of the console.
Yondu finds himself waiting for something to happen. Whether he's waiting for someone to speak or for Murlainn to die, he doesn't know.
The former is what happens first.
"Do you really think Ego won't find him?"
Yondu throws Murlainn a dangerous look as the words pass blood-spattered lips, but the man simply raises his hands in surrender before lazily dropping them over his wound. His posture has descended into a boneless slouch and more blood seems to be on the floor than in his body, but it seems he has enough life left in him to gloat.
Or not. It hits Yondu that the words hadn't been uttered with any menace or threat, only curiosity. He doesn't grace the question with an answer - frankly he doesn't want to think about Ego laying hands on Peter after everything that's happened - but that doesn't dissuade Murlainn from carrying on.
"I ain't gonna try an' change yer mind," he promises, his voice reduced to a huff. "Just statin' facts. Ego's gonna outlive us all. Ya could spend the rest o' yer life protecting the boy, but the minute you're gone, there'll be nothing stopping Ego from takin' what's his. But when he finds him, and he will, yer boy won' feel anything. It'll be painless."
Murlainn says that as if it's meant to be reassuring. As if Yondu can rest easy knowing that Peter's doomed to die, but hey, at least it won't hurt. He wonders if that's what Murlainn tells himself before he goes to sleep; that the children he's led to the slaughter weren't made to suffer, despite how they shouldn't have had to die in the first place. Ego's motivations are beyond their understanding – his reasons for wiping out his own progeny unknown even now – but the loss of all those young lives means that whatever he's planning will never be worth it.
Murlainn can spout all the bullshit he likes. Nothing will make Yondu hand Peter over to his father, no matter how grim the alternatives end up being.
"Tell me, can you really say the same if he stays with you?" Murlainn asks, sitting up as straight as he can and letting some life back into his voice. "Can ya really say the boy won' suffer when yer crew grow tired of him and tear him apart? Tell me true, how long do ya think he'll last under your protection?"
"He'll last longer than you," Yondu says bluntly, taking that as a cue to rise to his feet. The very child they're discussing is somewhere on this ship and needs him. The thought of Peter trapped on his own - having no idea what any of those screams and alarms meant or even if anyone is coming for him - sends discomfort racing through Yondu's heart, and for once he doesn't bother denying any feelings for the boy. Once everything is back to normal, he will have to bury his sentiment before his crew grow suspicious of it, but there is no-one to hide from here.
Least of all Murlainn.
The man's eyes remain fixed on Yondu, some of his earlier resignation fading and fear slipping into his face when a red pulse emanates from the floating arrow. He opens his mouth to speak, but Yondu silences him with a single thought and catches the arrow upon its return, wiping the fresh blood off with his sleeve before tucking the weapon into his coat.
He has no more need of it today.
Yondu doesn't spare Murlainn's body a second glance as he wanders towards the doors, his mind set only on finding Peter and getting him home safe.
A/N - It turns out the John Wick soundtrack is a pretty great muse when you're writing a character going on a murderous rampage...
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm not sure when I'll have the next one up but I'll be as quick as I can.