Post by Drake on Nov 27, 2015 15:48:15 GMT -5
#15: Prelude to Infinity: In the Heart of an Outlaw
By Drake
…
“He watched it happen. He watched his parents die.”
Peter Quill took a deep breath and leaned against the one-way mirror to look at the Centaurian boy in the other room, still too young for his fin to have grown in. The boy’s eyes were distant, not too subtly hiding the grief and pain underneath the surface. Peter had seen that look. He’d seen it whenever he had looked into a mirror for years, until he met…
“Ya with me, Captain Quill?” The stone-skinned Knowhere cop, Preq, crossed his arms, eyeing Peter worriedly.
“Star-Lord. I’m going by Star-Lord now,” Peter, eyes distant, looked at Preq. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you…Star-Lord. Means a lot.” Preq began to head out as Peter neared the door to the interrogation room that was now being used to house a terrified, lonely child, but the stone-skinned man stopped. He turned to Peter. “Heroes don’ just beat the bad guys. They save lives, too. Like that kid’s.”
Peter nodded the comment off, and entered the interrogation room, muttering, “I’m not a hero.”
The boy didn’t look at Peter as he moved across the room towards him. The boy didn’t even look at him when he dragged a chair to sit next to him. He simply stared off into space.
Peter bit his bottom lip, and tried, “Hey, buddy…um, bud, kid…” He sighed and managed an artificial sly grin. “You got a name?”
The boy didn’t reply.
“Ok. For the sake of talking, I’m gonna call you Yondu,” Peter said. “Listen, I’m not like some of the other people who’ve talked to you. I know what you’re going through.”
“Really? Did you watch your parents get slaughtered by fragging Skrulls? Did you see your neighbors try and fail to escape the shit war they didn’t even start?” The boy still didn’t meet Peter’s gaze.
“Yes,” Peter replied, straight-faced. The kid’s rage faltered. “Well, sort of. I watched the man who raised me get killed by men sent by my birth father. I watched the people I’d grown up with get mowed down. To be fair, they’d kind of asked for it, but—“
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” the boy replied, before coughing back tears.
“Yeah, sometimes life sucks. That’s just the way it is,” Peter lackadaisically muttered.
The boy looked at Peter. “Git’al. My name’s Git’al.”
“Well, Git’al, how about I call you Git, and you call me Star-Lord?” Peter offered, extending his hand.
“What—?”
<COMRADE QUILL!!> Cosmo’s voice echoed in Peter’s head.
“Ow…and it’s Star-Lord,” Peter grumbled, massaging his temple.
“Who’re you talking to?” the boy asked.
<One moment, Cosmo—>
<We do not have moment-->
“Cosmo. Psychic dog. Head of Security. It’s a thing,” Peter explained. <What is it?>
<Riots are breakink out throughout Knowhere. People are beink terrified.>
<I’m on it.> Peter turned to Git’al, smirking. “So, Git, how would you like to go on patrol with me?”
The boy’s eyes brightened, and a smile crept over his lips.
…
“I thought you said we were going on patrol,” Git said, looking at the chaos around him. Pillaging, fighting, yelling. Knowhere was falling apart.
“This is patrol,” Peter said, hiding his own shock and fear, “We will, by the definition, be patrolling.”
“And dying.”
“Whoa. Way to make it weird, Git,” Peter teased. “Now watch how a pro handles this crap.”
Peter stepped forward, drawing the Element Gun. His first targets? A street brawl that had broken out in front of a store.
“Cease and desist, people!!” Peter shouted. No one paid him any mind, continuing to slug one another and wrestle around in the dirt. “CEASE AND DES—“
A body interrupted Peter. That was to say, somebody threw another person at Peter, who tumbled to the ground upon contact. He grunted as he pushed the unconscious Kordonian off of him, muttering, “Nice job, Peter. ‘Now watch how a pro handles this crap.’ D’ast.”
Peter stood up and glanced back at the boy, who was watching and trying to hold back a smirk. Peter shook his head, looked back at the fight, and raised the Element Gun.
“No more Mr. Nice Star-Lord.” Peter blasted a gust of air, knocking everyone to the ground. All eyes focused on him. He grinned. “Cease and desist, slaggers, or learn the hard way that—“
A chair flew through the air and struck Peter’s arm, knocking the Element Gun out of his hand and causing him to stumble. Peter’s eyes widened. The crowd rose up, each alien glancing at one another, before silently deciding on what to do. They charged.
Peter grabbed the Element Gun, turned to Git’al, and shouted, “Run!!”
The two took off as the rioters chased after them. Git’al shot back a glare at Peter.
“Why don’t you just blow them away again—harder this time?”
“I don’t want to actually hurt them!” Peter shouted back.
“So your plan was to talk them down?”
“Yes!”
“And if that didn’t work?”
“Less talking, more running!!”
And run they did. Eventually, they managed to escape the rioters in an alley on the outskirts of floor three. The chaos down there had been toned down considerably, mostly thanks to Phyla-Vell’s work at apprehending the rioters with the Quantum Bands. However, neither Peter nor Git’al knew of the woman’s presence. All they knew was that they had a moment to breathe and relax.
“You’re supposed to be a soldier…” Git grumbled, gasping for air.
“I only use force…against bad guys…” Peter retorted.
“Those people…were destroying property and attacking each other! They’re criminals!”
“They’re scared,” Peter shot back.
“I’m not.” Git’al shook his head in frustration and stood up straight. He glanced out the end of the alley at a row of stores. Most were empty, and only one was occupied by somebody who seemed out of place. It was a pink Kree boy about Git’s age, and he was pocketing fruit from a stand.
“We’ve got a thief,” Git’al said.
Peter, now fully recovered, approached Git and glanced out after him. He eyed the young thief for a moment before shaking his head. “Leave him.”
“That’s wrong.”
“Well, some people have to…” Peter sighed. “Just leave him. That’s an order.”
“Frag that,” Git whispered. He stepped out of the shadows and called, “Hey, you! Thief!”
“Git…”
Immediately upon hearing Git and then seeing Peter, the young criminal took off. Git grunted with rage and ran after him. Peter started to call his name, but quieted and hurried after the boy. However, as it turned out, Git’al was faster than either the thief or Peter. Whether genetics or athletic conditioning prior to the war, Peter couldn’t be sure, but Git quickly caught up to the thief and tackled him to the ground. Then, it got bad.
Git’al began to beat on the boy, not even remotely pulling any punches. Peter had to pull him off to stop the brutality, and in the process the thief escaped, sprinting off into an alley.
“Psycho!” the thief called, before disappearing.
“LET ME GO!!” Git’al roared. “LET ME GO!!!”
“Not until you relax,” Peter said, pinning Git against the ground.
Git heaved with rage for a few moments, before slowing his breathing. His face smushed against the ground, he said, “I’m calm.”
Peter took a deep breath and stood up, releasing his grip on Git’al. The boy immediately threw his arms out to bat Peter away, and began to massage his sore wrists.
“You hurt me? Me? That kid was a criminal,” Git’al spat.
“You were going to kill him,” Peter simply responded.
“No, I…” Git shook his head. “Frag off. Just leave me alone.”
“Git…”
“And don’t call me that!!” Git’al demanded, before marching off.
Peter sullenly watched the boy go, unsure what to say or do. So, he simply stood there, frozen in place, defeated. A boy broken…
…
Phyla-Vell floated down to the ground beside Peter with a Kree boy in tow, captured and quieted with the golden energy from her Quantum Bands. However, as she landed, she stumbled slightly, sweat beading down her brow. She shook the temporary lapse of strength away and frowned at the sorry sight before her eyes, as the self-proclaimed Star-Lord stared off meekly at the upper floors.
“Thought you were helping,” Phyla said.
“There was a kid, Phyla,” Peter began, “Lost his parents. I tried to help, but—“
“So you’re bummed because you couldn’t make a grieving child feel better about himself,” Phyla clarified.
“Yes. No. It’s more than that,” Peter gripped the temple of his head.
“Self-pity is not a good look on you,” the Kree warrior said. Peter shrugged the comment off. “Wow. No quip. You really are feeling bad.”
Peter scowled. “I’ve been thinking lately—“
“You really aren’t feeling like yourself today, are you?” Heather teased. Peter glared at her. “I’m sorry. Carry on.”
Peter continued, “Bill—sorry, Kill, he…what he said…if I’d just died on Earth, or…never been born, or something, Yondu and the Red Fins would probably still be alive. My mom might be. Kill wouldn’t be…himself. And all the people I’ve hurt—and I mean really hurt: killed, stolen from, all of that bull—they’d be fine.”
“Peter, you know that’s not fair—“
“But it is!!” Peter suddenly jerked up onto his feet, turned around, and punched a wall. He bit back the pain and looked at his cut and bleeding fist. “I ruin everything I touch. We’re…we’re all gonna die because I started a fragging war with a god.”
“Peter—“
“You saw it! You lived it! We all die!”
“That was a different future. So much has changed already. We have the Skrull army, the Nova Corps. We have the Time and Mind Stones,” Phyla offered, indicating the Infinity Gauntlet and two glowing stones on her right hand.
“But Thanos has…” Peter sighed and shook his head. He took a moment to steady himself, and looked at Phyla. For the first time, he noticed the difficulty she was having breathing, and the ‘package’ she’d brought with her.
“That kid—he’s a thief,” Peter noticed, to which Phyla nodded, and then he continued, gently touching her shoulder, “Phyla, you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine—“
<ALERT, COMRADES! WE HAVE PROBLEM!>
Peter and Phyla both gripped their heads in pain.
<Again with the loudness, Cosmo,> Peter grumbled.
<I am beink sorry. But is big problem. We missed a Skrull.> Peter’s and Phyla’s eyes widened in shock and they looked at one another. The little thief squirmed in Phyla’s grasp. <He is attemptink to suicide bomb floor 5. Is big ion bomb. Snipers are ready. I wanted advice.>
<Wait! Don’t kill him. I can handle this,> Peter projected.
Phyla eyed Peter worriedly, “Leave it to me, Captain—“
“Star-Lord,” Peter instinctively replied, “Sorry.”
Phyla’s lips curled up into a slight grin, “Star-Lord, it makes more sense for either Groot or I to handle it. I can shut the Skrull down with the Mind Stone.”
<Need help now!> Cosmo cried.
<I’m coming!> Peter promised. He turned to Phyla, “The Gauntlet is wearing you out. Rest. Groot’s kind of bad at defusing situations for obvious reasons. I don’t want the Skrull to blow himself up. I can talk him down.”
“Peter…”
“Please, Phyla,” Peter begged, gripping her wrist. Phyla looked down at his hand, swallowed, and nodded.
“I’m coming with you, just in case things get bad,” Phyla said.
“Fine,” Peter agreed. “Fly us up there. Leave the kid, though.”
The Kree thief nodded in agreement. Phyla smirked.
“Like hell.”
She enveloped Peter in Quantum energy and rose up.
…
“(I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU ALL, I SWEAR TO THE CREATOR!!)”* A young Skrull sobbed, firing off blasters at random, a bomb strapped to his chest. Knowhere Security forces, Centaurian soldiers, and the Guardians surrounded the area, protected by buildings and debris.
Phyla floated up with Peter and the thief behind the Skrull, and landed quietly. Peter nodded in thanks and stepped forward. Phyla looked at the thief, gave him a daring look, before she freed him. The boy shrugged the act off, but remained quiet. Elsewhere, at the edge of the chaos, Git’al looked out at the scene over a crate.
“(Hey,)” Peter began.
“AAHH!” The Skrull swerved around, firing at Peter’s general position. Phyla blocked the blast with a golden shield. Peter glanced back at her in thanks, and turned back to the matter hand.
“(I just want to talk,)” Peter put his hands up, “(Scout’s honor.)” The Skrull cocked his head in confusion. Peter shrugged. “(It’s an Earth thing.)”
“(You…just stay back,)” The Skrull demanded, throwing his guns to the side and lifting up the bomb trigger.
“(Please, you don’t have to do this. We can help you,)” Peter said, ignoring the Skrull and slowly stepping forward.
The Skrull backed up a step, tripping and nearly falling over. Peter hurried up a few more steps, but stopped when the Skrull steadied himself and raised the trigger. The two now stood only a dozen yards apart.
“(BACK!)”
“(This is a colony of outlaws. You wouldn’t be out of place here,)” Peter explained.
“(You killed my people! You’ll kill me!)” The Skrull roared.
“(No, we didn’t!)” Peter frowned, “Not most of ‘em, anyway. (We won’t hurt you. You can have a place here. You can help us. You can--)”
“(The Creator will grant me eternal life--)” The Skrull lifted the trigger and looked to the sky.
“(WAIT!)” Peter roared, as Phyla’s golden light crept over the ground towards the Skrull. The Skrull froze in place. He looked back, terrified, at Peter.
“(You don’t buy that crap. I can tell. Otherwise, we’d both be dust right now.)” Peter said. The Skrull didn’t reply, but he didn’t flip the trigger either. “(I’m not a man of faith myself. Never really bought into the idea of greater powers.)”
Peter stepped forward a couple steps. The Skrull stared at him, unsure of what to do.
“(‘Course,)” Peter indicated the sky, “(There’s some crazy shit out there. But none of it’ll help us. Only thing that’ll help us is each other.)”
Peter took one last step forward, within touching distance of the man. “(My name’s Peter. Yours?)”
“(Z…Zer’g.)” The Skrull managed, eyeing Peter warily.
“(It’s nice to meet you, Zer’g. Now, please, help me…help you.)” Peter extended his hand to the man. “(Set the trigger down. Take off the bomb.)”
The Skrull looked at Peter’s hand, back up to his face, and then frowned, a tear slipping down his cheek. He raised the trigger.“(Praise be to the Creator.)”
“(NO!!!)” Peter tackled the Skrull. Phyla captured them in a net of golden energy, softening the fall.
“(Please, you have a few seconds before my friend shuts you down,)” Peter said.
“(LET ME DIE!!)” the Skrull sobbed.
“(I have to believe people can change. PLEASE! Let me help you!)” Peter begged, tears threatening to burst from his eyes.
The Skrull looked into Peter’s distant eyes and relaxed. Then, he began to sob like a baby. Peter took the trigger from his hand. The Skrull didn’t fight him; he even allowed Peter to toss his bomb jacket aside and pick him up.
Peter stood up, and turned around to Phyla, who was smiling weakly back at him. He nodded.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Peter looked for the source of the applause. Git’al stood out in the open, smiling brightly at him. The cops, Guardians, and soldiers looked around at one another. One after another, they began to applaud Peter. Even the Kree thief joined in, unexpectedly overcome with remorse. Peter took it all in stride, but on the inside he was celebrating. He’d actually done it. He’d saved the day.
Phyla clapped last, staring sadly at Peter. The purple Mind Stone glowed gently on the Infinity Gauntlet as her hands came together in a slow, constant rhythm.
…
The celebration was surprisingly large for a relatively small threat. The riots transformed into parties. To be fair, the soldiers and citizens of Knowhere could use whatever excuse they had to think on brighter things, to be happy. What was to come would be far from blissful.
Cosmo, alone, remained on monitor duty. It was he that got the news first.
<No…I must have misunderstood. Please, repeat that,> he projected to a Skrull drone on the Godship.
<We have received news, sir, that…>
Down at one of the parties, Heather broke free from a crowd of dancers to reach her Nova helmet, which had begun to flash and hum. She slipped it on, aware of what the call meant. There was an emergency.
“Oh my God…” Heather whispered, accessing the Worldmind.
”The Supreme Intelligence is dead.”
…
* translated from Skrullarus