Characters: Star-Lord
Genre: Thriller, Humour
Rated: T (swearing)

Ghost Mirror (Part 1)

Peter sipped his coffee from his Kevin Bacon mug as metal doors slid open, revealing the cockpit of the Milano. Another day, another bright and shiny view of the pitch black of space. Next time, I park this thing in front of an intergalactic space battle before we go to sleep.

Peter flicked away what looked like a potato chip on the pilot console, suddenly noticing the bits of old food and wrappers scattered everywhere.

"Ew. Next space port we hit, I'm hiring a maid."

He pressed a sequence of buttons to bring up a hologram of the surrounding star systems and live news feeds which appeared in eyepopping, intrusive fonts and images. They came and went like fast paced slideshows, but there were a lot more than usual. This is like a months worth of news, we've only been in this system for a couple days. An image of an old man looking extremely distraught caught his eye. The caption read, "Man ages two-hundred years in one day, claims this universe is wrong." Peter continued, "3408th confirmed case in the Gramosian system. Visitors warned to avoid a quasar emitting a rare form of radiation called GIZ-102," Peter chuckled, "The quasar is invisible to the eye. Extremely dangerous. Report any unusual symptoms or incident to the Gramosian Congressional State."

Invisible, huh? Wouldn't it be funny if it was literally in front of us this entire time?

Peter smirked and slowly sipped his coffee.

Maybe… just to be safe. He tapped the console to activate the ships sensors. Aging two hundreds years in a day was a scary thought, especially since he would be, well, dead. Incrementing numbers and bars appeared on the display and Peter's thoughts wandered.

"Son, there's something I have to tell you."

A young Peter looked up at his grandad, Jason. "Don't bother. It's about mom, isn't it? She never spends any time with us anymore."

"I don't think you understand. It's easier if you come sit down."

Peter grabbed his coat and made for the front door. "Nah. I'm going to Jake's place for dinner."

At the time, he had no idea his mother had cancer. He was just a boy then, who thought he knew it all. He figured his mother had a new fling and spending time with Peter wasn't so important anymore. Peter slowly shook his head at how ridiculous he had acted.

Yellow and red lights flashed and high-pitched beeping filled the cockpit. Peter choked on his coffee and sprayed it all over the console.

"Shit-ass-fuck."

A vortex shaped object with spiraled arms, spinning rapidly was at the center of the display. Peter looked up but only saw the black of space in the window. Definitely invisible. Definitely not good.

He reached for the ship-wide com button but a hand came out of no where and grabbed his wrist. Shocked and frozen, he stared at the hand. Human.

"Easy there, partner. It's just me."

Peter looked up at the face of a man wrapped in orange cloth and just above, the slits of his eyes, wrinkled and squinting attentively. He had curly, grey hair fashioned in a way that was oddly familiar. Slowly letting go of Peter's wrist, he gestured his head to suggest there was no reason to respond hastily. Peter couldn't help but feel at ease, but he had experienced far too much to trust that feeling. Remaining seated, he eyed the stranger, looking for weapons or technology. He wore a long brown, leather trench coat over a black vest. He could have hid anything inside it.

"Who might you be?" asked Quill.

The stranger lowered his mask, revealing a kept grey beard and mustache. Peter squinted intensely.

"You," the stranger said.

"Huh?"

"I'm you, dumbass."

Peter was squinting so hard, his forehead was beginning to hurt. He chuckled uncomfortably and stood up to converge on the stranger. This must be Rocket pulling some kind of–

The stranger gently placed a hand on Quill's shoulder and nudged his head towards the view port. Peter looked back out into the black of space, then back at the stranger.

"Prove it."

The stranger sighed and put his hands on his hips while he thought for a moment.

"Ah, I got it," said the stranger, "1999. Planet Mundus. In the jungle. Really, really, bad decision making."

The memory hit Peter like a brick, he leaned back and grinned, "Princess… princess Lorak…Lorik…"

"Princess Loshorick!"

"That's it! That was her!" said Peter.

"Hoo boy, that was a close call. Butt naked, no gun—"

"Big ugly beasties all around us—"

"That girl though, mmm, mm…" the stranger said shaking his head in pleasure.

"Now that was some fine Mund-ass."

Peter felt his body swell in warmth and wholeness, something he had not felt for as long as he could remember. The stranger's smirk was genuine and vulnerable. It reminded him of himself. I guess that would make sense then. Good to know I'm still charming.

"Listen, Peter," said old Peter suddenly switching to a serious tone. "There isn't much time… well from your point of view anyway. You and your shipmates are trapped in a time bubble. The longer you stay here, the faster you will age in your universe. You—" Old Peter's body flickered as if he was an image made of light. "Shit. I have to deal with something. I'll be back."

"What do you mean? What's happening? How do I get out of this time bubble?"

But, like a ghost, his older self was gone.

Peter let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding onto and slumped in the pilot chair. Time travel. Fun to watch in the movies. Not so fun to be a part of. He looked at his hands and then his reflection in the metal panels. Still young and handsome. Best to keep it that way. He plotted a course away from wherever it is they were. It couldn't be as simple as moving the ship. How does one know if one is in a time bubble anyway?

He leapt out of his chair and exited the cockpit. There was no time to waste if what old Peter said was true. The crew's not gonna like this.