Peter was an excellent Ravager, despite the fact that he was only nine years old and had received little more than a year of training. He had yet to bring in a big bounty or do a job by himself, which was to be expected, but he was a natural pickpocket and a pretty good liar. His childish looks and behavior got people to put their guard down, and because no one imagined a child would be a Ravager, he could eavesdrop more easily than anyone else on the ship.

But Yondu wasn't entirely pleased. Sure, he was happy the decision to keep his cargo hadn't come back to bite him, and he was satisfied with Peter's natural-born talents and desire to please his captors, but he knew the boy was still too soft. Peter was still too vulnerable, he wasn't cynical enough, he didn't think about things like a Ravager should.

Yondu tried to keep a close eye on the boy, and he constantly warned him about the dangers of getting comfortable. "Don't think you're somethin' special, kid," he would say. "You ain't got eyes in the back of your head just yet. You gotta stay on your toes, or someone really will eat'cha one of these days." He tried. "See all the shiny stuff this market is sellin'? You can see reflections in just about all of it. Practice watchin' your own six." Really, he tried. "Put your back against a wall whenever you can, unless you're already fightin' someone. Your back's your weakest point, got that?" He tried so hard. "Don't let anybody tell you it's wrong to fight dirty. Ain't no such thing as a fair fight, boy." In his own way, without getting too close or too kind, he tried to warn the boy of the threats that surrounded him every day and night. He tried to make sure Peter was never in any unnecessary danger. He tried.

But it wasn't enough.

"Captain!"

Yondu looked up from the control panel, recognizing the tone of panic in Kraglin's voice immediately. It always meant big trouble, often the deadly kind.

"What?" Yondu questioned, already on his feet.

"S'Peter." Kraglin leaned against the doorframe, one hand pressed to his blood-soaked side. "We were just gonna show him a transaction, teach'im how to count the money before you leave n' stuff like that. But them sons of…" Gritting his teeth in pain, the first mate tried to finish his sentence. "They took Peter… n'we got a man down, Cap'n."

Yondu clenched his jaw, feeling a fire ignite in his belly. Double-crossing Yondu Udonta was perhaps the stupidest thing a person could do. Double-crossing him and gunning down one of his men and kidnapping another was suicide.

"Get your butt down to the infirmary." Jerking his head in the general direction of the first mate's wound, Yondu stepped through the doorway and strode down the hall, his arrow bouncing against his thigh as he walked.

You think you can cross me, huh? You think you can cross me and get away with it?

It took Yondu less than twenty minutes to push his way through the town—there weren't many people who would stand in the way of an angry Ravager, and those that did met very sudden ends—and his anger still hadn't cooled by the time he arrived at the door to the large, warehouse-looking building.

This is where the deal was supposed to go down.

Yondu slipped his hands into his jacket pockets, letting out a soft humph before kicking the door in with a single, well-aimed blow. It was dark inside, and the Ravager had no doubts that there was danger just out of his sight, lying in wait for him.

"Well, well, well…" Yondu chuckled softly, stepping over the threshold and peering into the murky blackness. "Ain't every day I get to let loose on a bunch of back-stabbin', two-timin' cowards. What'cha think you're doin', tryin' to hurt my men and break our deal?"

For a moment, there was silence, but then a large man with green skin and yellow eyes stepped forward. He met Yondu halfway across the floor, standing a good foot and a half taller than the Ravager and brandishing a twisted blade at his side.

"Nothing personal, Udonta, but this war is killing our economy. Xandarians can't pay us what they used to, and that means we can't pay Ravagers what we used to."

Yondu stared at him, utterly unimpressed. "Then don't hire us, you d'ast idiot."

"We need this haul," the leader shot back, backed up by a chorus of disgruntled noises from the shadows. "We can't stop doing business. We got people who need this stuff—"

"Bleeble dobbly-dooble doop."

Blinking, the man tried again. "They need this stuff—"

"Oobly doobly biddy bow." Yondu folded his hands in front of himself.

"They need it for—"

"Wooble doopty dop."

"For the Black—"

"Deeble dee."

"If we lose this haul, we lose everything!"

Yondu whistled, watching in a mixture of delight and satisfaction as his arrow drew close to the man's throat. "That ain't my problem." He whistled again, and the arrow shot through the large, beefy neck before it was sent dancing around the room from thug to thug. He continued to whistle, slipping between the bodies as they began to fall to the floor in heaps.

Several shots fired, ray guns blasting chaotically around the room in an attempt to hit him. It was far more common for the gang members to accidentally shoot each other, especially in the darkness, and Yondu couldn't help but cackle to himself when the last body hit the floor.

Whistling one more time, he called his arrow back and slipped it into its sheath, moving toward a darkened doorway at the back of the building. It led to a flight of stairs, and with a curious hum, the red-eyed outlaw began his descent, listening carefully for any signs of life.

He found one such sign in the stifled sobs floating up from the darkness.

"Peter!" Yondu left the last step behind and frowned at the young Terran tied up on the floor. "What'd I tell you 'bout crying, boy?"

Peter looked up at him with wide, glistening eyes, his expression some sort of cross between surprise and happiness, with perhaps just a little bit of fear. "You came for me?"

Yondu snorted at the question, crossing the room and crouching down on the floor. "'Course. I tell you all the time, boy, Ravagers stick together."

"I know, but… but I'm not a real Ravager, and I thought…" Peter didn't finish his sentence, sniffing hard and blinking away the tears in his eyes.

"Ain't no such thing as half a Ravager, boy. You either is or you ain't. I don't let anybody go halfway on my ship. You go all the way or you get off." Yondu pulled out his pocketknife and made quick work of the binds, standing up as soon as Peter was released. "Now, get up and wipe your face. You better look like a man 'fore we get to the top o' them steps, you hear?"

Peter scrambled onto his feet and scrubbed his face with his sleeves, trying to remove any evidence of the weakness he had shown just minutes earlier. "Yessir."

Yondu let out another snort and shook his head. "C'mon. We gotta figure out where they put our haul, and then we gotta find ourselves a new buyer."

"Got it!" Peter nodded enthusiastically, bounding up the stairs with a renewed vigor and that same old desire to please. "I'll go check on their ship."

Yondu sighed and watched the youngster disappear, shaking his head. Some days, it felt like Peter would burn down an entire planet for Yondu if it meant he would get a pat on the head or an approving smile.

Still too soft, boy. You keep this up, and the universe is gonna chew you up and spit you out like Darmanian tobacco. Yondu trudged up the steps, slipping his hands back into his pockets. Just you wait, boy. If I can't make a man outta you, the universe sure will. It ain't kind to kids like you.

"Woah! Yondu, I found somethin' really big!"

"You watchin' your six, boy?"

"…I am now."

Yondu heaved another sigh.

Darmanian tobacco, kid.

Author's Note: Remember, if you want to keep up with my writing projects, just check out my website or my tumblr! I would really appreciate the support!

Thanks for reading!