Chapter 31: Space Adventures

The preparations for my new insanely clever and slightly risky plan to avoid confronting my fears had taken longer than I had anticipated at first. Mainly because of the scrying.

Scrying for the Power Stone itself had been a bust. I wasn't entirely sure whether that was a property of Infinity Stones in general or whether it had to do with the way the Power Stone had been hidden, but the only thing I got out of that session had been a mild existential crisis and a gigantic headache.

I didn't have any luck with the planet it was on either. The only things I distinctly remembered it for were the Stone and Peter Quill dancing around. So… not helpful.

And trying for Quill directly would just give me the location of the Ravagers. A bunch of pirates. I had full confidence that Bert could handle them – but killing people Quill grew up with, even if it was in self-defense, may not be the best way to introduce oneself to a future ally.

So, what was left.

Xandar. One of the few locations I knew for sure would house the Stone at one time or another in the next few years.

… Admittedly, I hadn't remembered the name. Or generally more about the planet than "there were white buildings". I dearly regretted not rewatching the Guardians' movies.

For some reason, I could vividly recall John C. Reilly's character though. Which was enough, at least after I went through an extensive scrying session.

With that done, I started worrying about what else Bert could need. Honestly, I couldn't think of much. He didn't need to breath or eat or drink or sleep. Extreme temperatures were no problem. He could literally survive a nuke.

In the end, I just gave him a backpack with rare metals in the hope he could sell them for some form of currency. I packed him two spare sets of lightweight armor, curtesy of the SI's R&D department, less so for his protection but more so in the hope that they would last longer before he had to replace them.

And then I fretted.

"Ok, ok, you have everything, right?" I asked for the third time.

In contrast to my nervousness, Bert was completely at ease. We were standing in my living room, Bert had his forest green (at his request) outfit on, and his deceptively small backpack thrown over his shoulder.

"Yes, I have," he answered.

"Did you get the chance to talk to everyone you wanted?"

He nodded.

"Did you check for – "

"Yes," he interrupted me, "I have my emergency signal and two containers, just like the last five times you asked. I'm ready. You know you don't need to worry about me."

"Can never be too sure," I grumbled.

I sighed. No use drawing it out.

I opened a portal to a back alley in Xandar that I had scoped out beforehand.

I turned to Bert and hugged him. He awkwardly patted my back in an attempt to console me.

"Have fun and take care of yourself."

He waved at me with a smile as he crossed through.

"But don't have too much fun," I called after him a moment later, the image of baby-Berts running through my mind. 'That's absurd,' you might say, 'Bert is a puppet, how the hell would that even work?'

Well, the universe was vast and weird and I for one was done with underestimating it.

Bert's Space Adventure

Life was full of illogical contradictions. In all honesty, Bert still had a lot of trouble understanding the thought processes of, well, everyone really. No one ever quite matched what they appeared to be on first glance though, that much he had figured out.

So, it was something of a surprise for him that that wasn't a lesson everyone else had learned too. Especially when they all had significantly more experience in living than him. "Curious," Bert thought to himself as he cocked his head while looking down on the sputtering alien.

Said alien, a light pink skinned, mostly humanoid male with his eyes wide open laying on the ground, was doing his utmost to get away from the calm puppet-man while holding his injured shoulder. His frantic movements were kicking off dirt from the back-alley pavement.

"What the fuck, man! How are you that strong?!"

Bert blinked and took a moment to think before bending down and picking up his strewn about backpack. He brushed off the traces of dirt that had accumulated during the chase with his hand and slung it back across his shoulders, making sure it was properly secured.

"Why would you assume otherwise? I am sure my overly friendly and open attitude could be misconstrued as being naïve, but at the same time, it might just mean I am confident in my strength, couldn't it?" Bert reasoned with a slight frown.

"Whatever man," the alien said with a shaking voice. He went still for a moment, tensing up in preparation before he scrambled to stand up and run away. Bert just shook his head and tsked. A jump and a well-placed kick and the robber was back on the ground.

Really, the male was entirely overexaggerating in his response. Though, Bert supposed that he was partially at fault for making himself a target. He was mildly embarrassed; it hadn't even taken more than day for him to get in his first spot of trouble.

Maybe he had been a bit more wide-eyed than usual. It must have been the innocent wonder written on his face that had marked him as an easy target for a thief.

The alien before him had been the one to ram into him in a fairly busy square. Still, Al had taken care to educate Bert on all sorts of scams, traps and crime – so when the thief took off with Bert's backpack in his arms, Bert didn't hesitate to follow.

He leisurely sprinted after the robber until they were situated in a less populated part of Xandar. That was when he overtook his target and clamped a hand down on his shoulder.

Being so suddenly stopped had the consequence of throwing the alien off his legs and landing him butt-first on the floor with a panicked scream.

Five minutes later, seeing as the prone robber was only going to stare at him in bewilderment, Bert had a brilliant idea.

He smiled brightly, ignoring the other's barely concealed shivering. Well, Al had told him that he did tend to look a bit eerie when he was too happy. In Bert's opinion, emotions were hard.

"My new friend, were would have sold the contents of this bag? It just so happens that I am new to the city and in the need for a bit of cash…" – and access to information on the kind of shady businesses that the future Guardians would likely frequent.

When his smile widened, the alien flinched.

Three months later

"Why can't you let me down?" the diminutive dragon complained from the safety of Bert's arms.

Said puppet looked at him with amusement as he continued his way through the snow, each step making a satisfying crunch sound.

"Because you are ectothermic, Mi," he patiently explained.

"But I love snow!" the tiny lizard protested.

"Yes, and the last time I let you walk on your own, you scurried away and cooled down so much that I had to come get you. I looked all over for you, you are hard to find in the snow. Let's not repeat that," Bert remined his companion with a meaningful look.

Mithra pouted and crossed his arms. Hard to find indeed. Not only was the dragon creature small, he was also an albino, his scales the same color as the snow.

Now, at least Bert presumed his little friend was an albino; he couldn't know for sure. Mithra still refused to tell him what alien race he belonged too.

Another point for the albino theory were the lizards ruby red eyes, the only spot of color on his body. Even his flames, because yes, Mithra could really breathe fire, were white. Which also meant that they were extremely hot. In fact, Bert speculated that Mithra had been left alone before solely because the dragon had a nasty habit of snoring fire while asleep and setting everything in his surroundings alight.

"I could totally warm myself with my flames though," the lizard spoke up again after another couple of steps.

Bert sighed.

"You haven't in the past, you wouldn't now. The snow would melt," he counterargued and the dragon, with his infallible argument felled, went back to sulking.

Looking at the two of them, it was almost impossible to guess that the puppet was the one just over a year old and the dragon the one who had been alive during a time when dinosaurs had yet to die out on Earth, Bert mused to himself. Though by his own admission, it didn't make Mithra much of a wise old master, he spent all of his time either hibernating or fishing for food – the closest he got was that his white lion-like mane kind of looked like a beard. From a certain angle. It mainly looked fluffy.

Never having learned the concept of impulse-control, Bert reached out and started scratching Mithra behind his ears. Not long after, the dragon stopped pouting and started purring up a storm, thoroughly enjoying the attention.

So it was an utterly relaxed duo of puppet and lizard that entered a brothel by the name of Iron Lotus on that snowy, well, winter day? Bert wasn't entirely sure what the climate was like on that planet. For all he knew, this was the warmest it was going to get.

"You really think you are going to find anything here? I still don't really get what you are looking for," Mithra asked as he skeptically mustered the working sex bots.

The brothel was visited but no where near full, it was too early in the day for that.

"I'm just rattling down a list of potential Ravagers' hang-out spots. We'll get lucky at some point, I'm sure."

Weaving his way through the scattered crowd, Bert came to a stop in front of the bar where a male Contraxian was doling out alcohol.

"What can I get'ya?" the bartender asked without looking up.

"Nothing for me but some of the strongest stuff you have for my friend here," Bert answered and set down Mithra on the counter.

The bartender peered at the dragon oddly.

"You sure? Don't want the thing dying on my bar," he questioned.

Before he had even finished the sentence, Bert had already scooped the lizard up again and held him above his head so that the flames Mithra breathed out didn't incinerate the bartender. Knowing that Mithra's wrath was always short lived, he sat him back down with a little pat on the back.

"We're sure," Bert said with a calm smile.

The bartender, wide-eyed but used to the weirdest of situations, just gave him a shaky nod and got to pouring the dragon a drink. With a clank, he sat the glass down in front of his tiny murderous customer.

"Thank you!" Mithra cheerily called out before he started slurping.

"What is that?" a curious patron asked from the side. He looked shady and clearly wasn't a local, but that was something you could have said about the majority of the brothel visitors.

"This is my friend Mithra. I don't know his species, he has refused to tell me, but he has promised to admit it if someone guessed right. Hasn't happened yet though, feel welcome to try. Just don't hold your breath," Bert went into the same spiel as dozens of times before.

The alien just grunted and didn't let Mithra out o his sight. When it became clear that he wasn't eager to continue the conversation, Bert turned back to the bartender.

"Do you get a lot of Ravagers in here?" Bert asked to get to his reason for coming.

"Get all sorts of folks here. Ravagers? Sure, when they got something to celebrate. Or they got the money and time to spent," the bartender helpfully answered, his eyes still firmly locked onto the dragon on his counter.

"Hm, have you heard of Yondu's Ravager clan?"

"Nah, there's a bunch of them and I only really remember the ones that stick out for the bad reasons, ya know?"

"Well, thank you anyway. Seems like this was another bust, Mi," Bert sighed in disappointment.

"Thought so. We gonna get outta here, or what?" Mithra commented with a slight slur. Then he let out a fiery burp that barely missed the bottle of alcohol the bartender had been handling.

"It might be worth a shot to come back regularly," Bert pondered, "Shouldn't take that long before one clan or another gets lucky on a job and swings by."

"Ah, wait, I can get the name of a bar? Lots of seedy people there, if you don't find who you are looking for, you'll find someone who knows," the bartender explained hastily before trailing off more quietly, "And it's very far away from me…"

"Ah, great!" Bert cheered.

Not a minute later, the duo was back out in the cold. Not that either of them particularly minded. Bert because he couldn't feel it and Mithra because he was too busy trying to escape Bert's clutches to play in the snow.

Behind them, another pair of footsteps echoed through the alley they were going to down to reach n the space ship harbor. Bert didn't need to turn around to know that it was the curious man from the brothel, he had been unsubtly following them as soon as they left.

"Hey!" the shady alien called out.

Bert's surprise at not being hit over the head in a vain attempt to take him out was immediately replaced by the urge to role his eyes as he turned around. The alien had chosen the even worse option of threatening him with a gun. A laser gun, but still just a gun.

"Alright bucko, give me your pet there without a fuss and I'll let you walk out of here all healthy. And tell it not to bite! I know a collector that's gonna pay a pretty penny for it alive, but I'm sure he's gonna take it stuffed too, hehe," the wannabe robber laughed at his own joke.

Bert sighed.

"This getting really annoying," he complained quietly to Mithra who nodded sagely.

Bert walked towards the alien with a pout on his face, more irritated than anything. When he sat Mithra down on his shoulder and didn't look the least bit scared, it finally clicked for the robber that something was wrong.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't try to play the hero here, okay man? Just set the lizard down or I'll shot you, you get that? Hey, don't come any closer, I'm warning you!" he shouted, sounding more and more uncertain the closer Bert got to him.

When Bert was only a couple of meters away, he pulled the trigger and shot at the puppet three times, hitting his target squarely in the chest.

Predictably, Bert didn't much care and lunged for the weapon before the robber could run off. He got ahold of the gun with one hand and of the now screaming and trashing alien with the other.

It took a moment of tugging in both directions before the alien let go. With an exasperated shake of his head, Bert crushed the gun easily in his hand, its part landing silently in a small heap of trash on the snowy ground.

Seeing his supposed victim's casual show of strength, the alien went still in Bert's grasp and looked at him with wide open eyes.

"Learned your lesson now?" Bert asked as neutrally as possible for his annoyed state of mind.

With that the gangster's paralysis was broken and he went back to screaming for help.

"Or not," the puppet said with a frown.

Another minute or so later, the two travel companions were back on their way. Behind them, stuck upside down in a bin, was the alien. His screams now muffled through the trash.

"So, are we going to use your method of traveling again?" Mithra asked.

"Of course. And why do make it sound like that? I told you; hitchhiking is very much a thing they do on Earth. You don't have to make me sound weird for partaking in it in space. It's convenient," Bert defended his position, happily ignoring the side-eye his dragon friend was giving him.

"I don't think you understand what hitchhiking is, Bert."

"Well, it was a lot easier to just hang onto the outer hull of the ships and let myself be dragged, but you can't do that so know I ask. I don't see a problem with that."

"Bert, I think they are supposed to be able to say no when you ask."

"Really? … Oh, that would stretch things out too much."

"Ah. Say, Bert, didn't your Al tell you to obey laws and such?"

"Well, yeah. He was a lot more insistent about some over others though. As long as I don't maim or kill anyone, he's pretty happy."

"You don't say."

Nearly a whole year later

"I'm bored."

"I know, you said that," Bert repeated. For the dozenth time that day.

"Why do we have to wait here? We have been on this stake-out for days… Days! Let's go back to your mercenary work, that was a whole lot more fun," Mithra asked with a pout.

He had laid himself out on the park bench on his back, stomach faced towards the sun, soaking up the warmth. Next to him sat Bert, his attention solely on the door twenty meters away.

The Broker's shop. Known to deal with Yondu's clan. Who was currently out to look for a mysterious orb, not knowing that Peter Quill had already taken the opportunity to have a big pay-day.

"This is the whole reason I am out here, I won't let Al down. Any day now, any day- "

Bert interrupted himself when he caught sight of a particular shade of green, a skin tone one did not see all that often in space, all things considered. Gamora.

Which meant Peter Quill wasn't that far.

Showtime.