One way, or another, I'm gonna find ya

I'm gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya

One way, or another, I'm gonna win ya, I'll get ya, I'll get ya

One way, or another, I'm gonna see ya

I'm gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya

One day, maybe next week, I'm gonna meet ya

I'll meet ya, ah

When the prison transport completed its final jump, Peter looked out the window and saw the massive prison floating in space, surrounded by what had to be hundreds of asteroids. For anyone else, that might be something to intimidate them out of contemplating an escape, but to him it was a challenge on par with the first level of Super Mario Bros; there was maybe a tiny chance he'd miscalculate if he wasn't paying attention and wind up in trouble, but he could probably do it with his eyes closed.

He grinned a little to himself at the idea.

The bigger challenge would be getting out of the Kyln in the first place. But he had an in there.

Peter glanced at the hot Nova chick and his smile grew. With how well that uniform fit, how tightly it hugged every curve, she was definitely someone he wouldn't mind spending some time getting to know in pursuit of his freedom. And that little spark he felt when her eyes locked onto his sent fire through his veins.

Plus a chick who could kick his ass? Yeah, he had a type.

She looked up at him as she spoke with one of the guards, smirked, and went back to her conversation.

Just barely, he caught the other guard calling her 'Cass' in a desperate attempt at flirting. And it was painfully obvious she wasn't into it - the way she looked all around the transport for a way out of the conversation. Again, that smirk was directed at him. If he weren't shackled down, literally, he'd be on his feet with a rescue already. Her knight in…well, red leather, he supposed.

Rocket's voice almost startled him out of his reverie - going on about guards and corruption in the Kyln - but Peter managed to tune it out. As far as he was concerned, he had his way out. And what a pleasurable way out it would be!

As soon as the transport docked, Cass followed the rest of the Nova Corps officers away from Quill and the others. They would all be stuck there for at least a couple of days while the Kyln underwent a shift change. Normally, the regular duty Nova Corps officers hung out in their own part of the Kyln, ignoring the rampant corruption and violence.

But Cass had no intention of doing any of that. Or returning with the shift change.

The die had been cast the second she snuck on that transport, pretending to be on the roster. Or rather, having hacked into the systems to put herself on the roster. It was far too late to turn back now. One way or another, she was leaving the Kyln with Gamora. Or possibly joining the prisoners there with her own bright yellow jumpsuit.

Cass suppressed a shudder - bright yellow wasn't exactly her colour. This is a lie every color is her color

As she made her way down the hall, she parted ways with the rest of the crew who would return to Xandar and made her way to where the prisoners were being processed. The guards were having a laugh over Quill getting the shit beat out of him for trying to take back something of his. Part of her almost felt badly for the guy, it wasn't like he'd done anything so bad as to warrant the Kyln. Or losing all of his possessions. Especially not something that meant that much to him.

As she walked along, she caught sight of the prisoners being cleaned. Specifically she caught sight of Quill being cleaned.

Holy shit he had a great body! Just absolutely ripped. And the way his boxer briefs clung to his hips, the way his chest heaved with anger as he glared at the guards…. If he ever got out, she was sure whoever had pissed him off would be in for a hell of a bad day.

Maybe being put back in prison with him wouldn't be so damn bad.

As he put his prison yellows on, the raccoon stepped in and…. Cass bit back a gasp at the mods on his back. It was like he'd been just picked apart and completely put back together. Scarring, permanently hairless patches, and bits of metal all across his upper back. The sympathy on Quill's face didn't escape her either.

Flirty and carefree, snarky and confident one minute. Then empathetic and kind, angry and righteous in the next. Peter Quill was a damn puzzle she wished she had the time to figure out.

Shaking her head, she walked back to the guard tower to talk to someone about picking up shifts while she was there. Boredom and sitting still weren't her style.

Later that night, Cass was on shift when she noticed Gamora being dragged toward the showers by some slimy assholes. While she had every confidence the woman could escape if she wanted to - deadliest woman in the galaxy, after all - she decided to follow.

"Take her down to the showers," one of the guards muttered. "It'll be easier to clean up the blood down there."

Cass bit down on a comment and just barely stopped herself from taking the asshole down to the showers herself. While she'd known the Kyln wasn't exactly filled with the best people in the galaxy, she hadn't expected the guards to be so…overt. Turning a blind eye? Sure. Directly telling the prisoners the best way to commit murder? There was a special place in hell for people like that.

Glaring at the guard, she turned to follow the group down to the showers and arrived just in time to see them shove her up against the wall with a rusty knife to the throat.

"Gamora!" one of them hissed. "Consider this a death sentence for your crimes against the galaxy!"

Cass lunged at him, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and tossing him to the floor as she twisted the knife out of his hand. As she knocked him on his ass, Gamora took out the remaining two prisoners, while the others scrambled.

"It's not nice to stab people," Cass muttered, placing a heeled boot on the guy's throat.

"I didn't need your help with this vermin," Gamora spat.

When Cass glanced over her shoulder, the assassin was holding a pair of knives Cass hadn't seen when she'd come in against the throats of the other two prisoners.

"Well, you're welcome," Cass said, sarcasm firmly in place.

"That green whore doesn't deserve to live," a loud growl sounded behind her.

Cass turned to see a…wall of muscle walking toward them, murder in his eyes. Jesus, he could probably rip them all apart without batting an eyelash. If he even had eyelashes. She squinted, trying to see. And trying to recall his species.

"Drax!" the idiot under her boot gasped. "The Destroyer!"

The wall of muscle took another step forward, glaring at everyone in the room. "And you know why they call me this?"

"You've slayed dozens of Ronan's minions," one of the prisoners Gamora held whimpered.

Cass narrowed her eyes at Drax. If he held a grudge against Ronan, she might be able to find some common ground. Or at least a common target. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Or whatever that pretentious saying was. She was pretty sure she'd gotten it right.

"Ronan murdered my wife, Ovette," Drax said, taking another step. "And my daughter, Camaria. He slaughtered them where they stood. And he LAUGHED!" The walls echoed with Drax's anger. And Cass couldn't blame him.

"Join the club," Cass sneered, putting a little pressure on the idiot under her boot. "I'm not here out of the goodness of my heart, Destroyer. I'm here for vengeance." So much for finding common ground. Or maybe common ground could be found in anger?

"Please," the idiot gasped.

Cass ignored him. She knew she wasn't putting enough pressure on to kill him.

"That vengeance is not yours to take, woman," Drax muttered dangerously. "He killed my family, and you will allow me to kill one of his in return."

The men Gamora had been holding ran past them out of the showers and the blade of one of the mystery knives appeared in her peripheral. Cass let the idiot up from under her boot, but kept her eyes on Drax. And Gamora. It didn't seem like Gamora was threatening her, but it was good to be cautious.

"I am no family to Ronan," Gamora said. "Or Thanos." She flipped the blade in her hand and offered it to Drax. "I'm your only hope at stopping them."

In a flash, Cass found herself knocked on her ass while Gamora was up against the wall with that same blade to her throat.

"Woman, your words mean nothing to me!" Drax shouted.

"HEY!"

Was that Quill?

"Hey! Hey hey hey!" Quill ran up and offered her a hand off the ground, keeping his eyes on Drax and Gamora.

Cass hesitated, but took his proffered hand and got up.

Quill put an arm out in front of her and one out toward Drax. "If killing Ronan's truly your sole purpose, I don't think this is the best way to go about it."

Drax eyed him warily. "Are you not the man this wench attempted to kill?"

Quill scoffed. "Well, I mean, she's hardly the first woman to try and do that to me." He lifted his shirt and Cass couldn't help it when her gaze dropped to his chest. And the three-pronged scar that looked oddly like…. "Look, I got this from a smoking-hot Rajak girl. Stabbed me with a fork. Didn't like me skipping out on her at sunrise."

Cass rolled her eyes. Of course. Peter Quill was a manwhore.

Unaware of her assessment of him, Quill continued, pulling the collar of his shirt down to reveal another scar. "I got, right here, a Kree girl tried to rip out my thorax. She caught me with this skinny little A'askavariian who worked in Nova Records." His tone went immediately from bragging to explaining and Cass couldn't help but wonder how the hell he'd managed to screw an A'askavariian and live to tell the tale. "I was trying to get information. You ever see an A'askavariian? They have tentacles, and needles for teeth. If you think I'm seriously interested in that, then…."

Quill paused and looked at the unimpressed faces around the room, landing on Cass last. She could only imagine the look on her face - her usual face was Resting Bitch Face, but now? She was pretty sure she looked murderous. That asshole just listed off his conquests, including an A'askavariian - which, honestly, Cass didn't even think they had compatible…parts - and he had the nerve to look to her for…what, support?

"You don't need to hear this," he said, shaking off his little rant as he turned back to Drax.

"No shit," Cass grumbled. Saying she was unimpressed by it all would be an understatement. Not to mention hurt that she ever fell for his bullshit.

"But here's the point," Quill said, nodding toward Gamora. "She betrayed Ronan. He's coming back for her. And when he does, that's when you…." Quill dragged his finger over his throat and honestly, Cass wasn't sure if he meant for Drax to kill Ronan or Gamora.

Drax looked from Gamora to Cass to Quill. "Why would I put my finger on his throat?"

Oh good lord, that was it - Drax was Kylosian and Kylosians were unable to think or speak in metaphors, they were literal to a fault. Gamora gave her a look over Drax's shoulder as Quill tried to explain the metaphor. And Cass couldn't help but agree - idiots, the lot of them.

"Look," Quill finally sighed. "What I'm trying to say is, you want to keep her alive. Don't do Ronan's dirty work for him."

For a tense minute, Drax seemed to consider the proposition. Then he pulled the knife away from Gamora's throat and inspected it. "I like your knife, whore," he muttered. "I'm keeping it." And without anything further, he walked off.

"I don't need saving," Gamora snarled, pocketing the remaining knife.

"Great," Cass said, crossing her arms. "Next time I'll just leave you to your shower, then."

When her glare landed on Quill, he shrugged. "I didn't do it out of some sense of justice. You know who's going to buy my orb."

"Our orb," Rocket muttered, stepping into the room. Where the hell had he been hiding? Cass hadn't seen him during the confrontation. "Idiot." He pushed around Quill and glared at her. "And I ain't sharing with any Nova Corps."

Cass narrowed her eyes. "Keep your units," she muttered. "I just want a shot at the Kree. And revenge."

"Revenge on the Kree?" Rocket scoffed. "Ain't you half Kree?"

"A quarter," she corrected. However the hell he'd known that, she just wanted to drop the damn topic, so she pressed on without pause. "Just let me know where and when you need me and I'll help you get out as long as you take me with you. You can keep the units."

"Right," Quill said. "And…how many units would that be?"

Gamora glanced at him, then off to the side with an irritated sigh. The tension could be cut with even that shitty rusted knife the idiot had brought to kill Gamora. "Four billion units."

Cass nearly shat herself. That kind of money would set anyone up for life. Who the hell was that rich? She was pretty sure the entire population of Xandar didn't have four billion units combined.

"That orb," Gamora said, looking from her to Quill, "is my opportunity to get away from Thanos and Ronan." Her gaze dropped to Rocket. "If you free us, I'll lead us to the buyer directly and we'll split the profit."

The glare Rocket levelled at her could have melted glaciers. "No take backs," he sneered.

"I don't want the money," she repeated. Not that she ever thought she'd be dumb enough to turn down so much money. "Just revenge."

"For what?" Quill asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

Cass shook her head. "That's my business, Star Prince, not yours." Instead of giving Quill the opportunity to reply, she turned back toward the door. "I'll be on duty in the morning after breakfast."

Everyone piled into the bunks ahead of him and Peter pushed out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. At least there'd been no bloodshed. And holy shit, four billion units! The payout was four billion units! He'd be set for life, leaving Yondu and his damn bounty in the dust!

He - Peter Jason Quill - would be able to fix up the Milano to his heart's content, and spend the rest of his days buried in whatever pleasures he wanted.

Movement on the level above caught his eye and he turned to see Cass putting something in her ear before moving to a beat he couldn't hear. She danced along the catwalk, oblivious to his gaze. Something about the way she moved, the slight smile tugging at her lips, made him feel a certain way he'd rather keep buried.

As she glided past a bunk, one of the prisoners inside started following her with a look on his face that Peter didn't like at all.

But before he could even think of helping, she spun, moving in time with that same inaudible beat, and knocked the guy on his ass. Peter didn't catch whatever threat she'd muttered, but the guy scrambled back to his bunk, leaving Cass to continue her dance.

There was something about a woman who could kick ass that Peter had never been able to resist. Grinning to himself, he headed back into the bunk and what would probably be the worst and most uncomfortable sleep of his life. And not just because of the sudden tightness in his pants.