the willingness to let me screw around with spaceships on earth
let me know when you're done tampering with what may or may not be a crime scene and whenever you're not in immediate danger of being arrested and i can meet you
I bet you say that to all the spies engaged in dubiously legal activities. If it were even 10 years ago I'd suggest you consider something else. But the average person is either used to seeing them or will think it's a high tech jet. I should be done with the first part soon. The second part I'll give a couple of hours to make sure nothing got picked up.
reassuring as that might be, i'll try to avoid inciting a mass panic and fly in cloaked
probably goes without saying but be careful with whatever it is you're doing that i prefer not to know too many details about for plausible deniability
That might still be the wisest choice. If I get caught at this point in my career without meaning to, I deserve to get caught. But I'll still be careful.
Just sayin'. The likelihood of getting shot is going down dramatically by the moment. I'm now on the roof. Are you texting while operating a spaceship?
[Don't throw stones in that glass house, Natasha.]
also there aren't any stop signs to accidentally run up here, unless earth laws have changed a lot more than i expected
i'll see you in an hour so
[ And true to his word, he shows up a little over an hour later – if only because he is being careful, which means his ship is cloaked and he's going at a (semi-)reasonable speed. Even with his ship being practically invisible, breaking the sound barrier and creating a sonic boom is bound to draw a few curious gazes.
He lets the cloak drop once he touches down on the landing pad, revealing that he's taken one of the smaller M-ships in the Guardians' possession.
The bay doors on his ship twist open, and he steps down the landing ramp, he flashes her a wide grin. ]
Nah. Just keep an eye out for people up there not in aircraft.
[Weird that that's a thing you have to look out for now, but she's not sure her life has ever been normal.
When he arrives at the landing pad, she's leaning against the side of her black sports car, eyes on her phone screen as she finishes up a message with instructions regarding the crime scene she'd left behind earlier.
Her eyes lift as he approaches and her phone disappears into the pocket of her leather jacket, mouth curling into a smirk.]
Quill. My favorite...space pirate? I'd say 'intergalactic pen pal' but Rocket's kind of got you beat on that one. Where are you coming from?
I prefer reformed space pirate, if it's all the same.
[ Though the tone of voice means he doesn't really care. He goes back and forth on the Ravager title, these days – mostly as a matter of convenience, more often than not.
He reaches the end of the ramp, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. He's conspicuously unarmed, and he's swapped his signature jacket for a bomber. If it weren't for the spaceship behind him, he wouldn't look too out of the ordinary if he were wandering down a crowded street. ]
I've been in Missouri. Visiting family.
[ And the brevity of his response means he's not likely to elaborate too much further – at least, not without a healthy heaping of alcohol. ]
You're not gonna take me anywhere that I'm gonna have to have a gun for, right?
I always figured it was just people wanting to put the most distance possible between themselves and Ohio. [Sorry, Ohio. She has fond memories of her childhood mission there, but it's hard to argue that there's not a whole lot to do.]
If it makes you feel better, I'm not expecting any shoot outs. [She just knows better than to jinx herself by saying 'we probably won't need any weapons at all.' That's a surefire way of ensuring someone goes rogue over karaoke.
She turns the key in the ignition and the car purrs to life. With a guileless look, she shifts into drive.] What crime scene?
[ He snorts out a laugh at her wide-eyed, innocent look, waving a hand to say, "Got it, got it." ]
So I'm guessing it went good, then.
[ He leans back in the seat, glancing over at his ship as the cloak folds over the hull. It's not a perfect camouflage – looking directly at the ship calls to mind heat waves oscillating up from asphalt – but it's enough to blend in. ]
Telling you now, if this was just a ruse to get me to land my ship so your guys can dismantle it for parts, I'm gonna be so pissed.
As good as can be expected. [Tampering with crime scenes isn't a part of her job that she particularly relishes, but there are times it has to be done. And she appreciates the need for discretion when it comes to working in a crowded apartment building.
She glances over at his ship as the cloaking technology ripples over it, then pulls the car out of its spot and onto the access road. Her voice is amused when she answers in a way that suggests she knows her response isn't helpful.] I wouldn't make it this obvious if that was the goal.
[She taps a dot on the dash display and the security gate at the end of the drive lifts.] Fury's interested in cloaking technology, but not interested enough to send me after it yet. This is a strictly karaoke based visit. [Though, to be fair - ] But I'll probably tell him if there's anything big going on out there you tell me about.
[ He laughs again, though not quite as amused this time. That said, he figures if he gets tricked, it's his own fault. He'll be pissed, of course – that much wasn't a lie – but he'll be more pissed about Rocket potentially finding out and either A.) ripping him a new asshole or B.) doing that fake guffaw of his at Peter for being so thoroughly duped.
The clarification, at least, does a little more to reassure him. Setting the ground rules for their conversation? That's good. That's fine. If he were in knowledge of some kind of life-threatening technology or intergalactic menace, he would want Earth to be prepared – seeing as how he's living on it, and probably will be for a while. ]
Only thing I can think of is that there's been a roster change on the Guardians. Rocket can tell you more about that.
And also, the exchange rate from intergalactic units to the US Dollar sucks.
[ Which is his way of saying that there's nothing to worry about. Yet. ]
That explains the e-mail he sent me that just said 'you can refer to me as captain now' in all caps. So many of his e-mails are in all caps. [She sounds amused and almost fond as she says it. Rocket certainly has a lot of attitude, but so much of it is clearly bluster. And she gets why. She genuinely enjoys corresponding with him.
She glances over at him with a grin when he mentions the exchange rate, then pulls the car out onto the main road.]
Sounds like I'm buying drinks, then. This mean you're retired?
[ He catches that affection, and unconsciously, the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile. Obviously Peter would be the first person in line to call Rocket an asshole, but he'd kick anyone's ass who said it in earnest. Evidently that's just the sort of thing brothers do. ]
Part of his charm. He says it's attention-grabbing. Plus, he thinks it's funny that it looks like yelling.
And I'm retired, but with a dot, dot, dot and a question mark at the end. I'm not opposed to the idea of a sequel.
[ In the later years, the Guardians of the Galaxy's coffers were surprisingly flush. In living up to their name and saving planets and systems and the galaxy at large from every bad guy with a superiority complex, they received a lot of units as recompense. (Occasionally, a well-meaning parent might offer up their offspring for marriage, but only Kraglin ever seemed to take them up on that.) When he took his severance, he had enough in his accounts that he didn't really have to take up a job on Earth.
(He probably would, though, eventually. Just out of boredom. Not that he has any inkling on what. He could hardly work a desk job, after all.)
It is funny. I can always tell I'm going to be in for a good read when the subject line is just 'HEY RED.' [She can never tell what direction the e-mails are going to go in. Sometimes it's requests for snacks or ammo. Sometimes it's an obscure Earth trivia question she's pretty sure he uses to needle Peter. He'd been remarkably patient with her during the blip, when she'd spent weeks at a time inside the Avengers compound trying to provide a central hub for threat response coordination.
Everyone coped differently. She'll never try to claim she coped well.
The traffic is fairly light, and Natasha moves the car easily through the cars as she navigates them toward their destination, a karaoke bar called Space that has an alien head logo. Yes, she thinks she's hilarious.
She hums knowingly when he describes the conditions of his retirement.] No one in this line of work ever really retires. What are you going to do while you're on Earth? I can send you some sudoku puzzles.
Oh, you know. [ And his tone is breezy, light. ] Same thing any former pirate turned galaxy-saving mercenary does when they have some time to themselves.
I was thinking maybe I'd catch up on reading, see some of the movies and listen to some of the music I'd missed. Then I'd get really bored and do something endearingly well-meaning but ultimately misguided and until someone arrives on my doorstep, hat in hand, to tell me that they've got a job only I can do.
[ He pauses for a second before clicking his tongue. ]
Mostly I'm pretty sure my grandpa wants to take me on a grand tour of the greater Quill clan so he can crow about how he was right all along that I wasn't actually murdered in 1988.
[The term mercenary clearly amuses her, a quick upward tick at the corner of her mouth. His whole team has, on average, more morals than any mercenary she's ever met. Though to be fair, most of the mercenaries she's met are completely unscrupulous Russians with chips on their shoulders. Maybe mercenary has a nicer connotation in space.]
Pretty detailed plan for a guy that's newly retired. Anyone introduce you to spotify yet? It could keep you busy on the music front for the next twenty years.
[She can't help but chuckle a little at the idea of a Quill family tour. It's a sweet mental image. And she's got a secret soft spot for a family reunion.] Must be nice for your grandpa to be proved right. How are you feeling about seeing the whole family? [As nice as the idea is, she can imagine it could stir up some complicated emotions. Especially given what she knows about the way he left Earth as a kid.]
Yeah, my grandpa's wife's son set me up with an account. [ Does that make the guy Peter's step-uncle? God, family trees are weird. ] You ever get paralyzed by choice?
[ He thought the over 300 songs on his Zune was a luxury. Now he's got well over 30 years of backlog to catch up on, and he has no earthly idea on how to start.
Ah, and there's the tough question. Peter doesn't answer immediately, because it's a whole mess of complexity. It's been weird. But it's been good, too. But weird. Maybe at some point everyone will stop feeling like strangers, and they'll stop treating him as a bizarre novelty, but it's all still too new. But that isn't exactly fun "we're gonna go get varying degrees of tipsy and sing karaoke" conversation, so Peter settles on the safest, blandest answer: ]
[It's clear for a moment from the look on Natasha's face that she's having a similar thought about what the Quill family tree must look like now. It's definitely step-uncle. Huh. That's going to make the family barbecues really interesting. Regardless.]
Weirdly you're not even the second guy I know that's got decades of media to catch up on. I'll send you some of my playlists.
[Some of them are helpful. Some of them are just because she thinks they're funny, like 'it's 2002 and you're at a slumber party' and 'we all had to suffer through screamo bands and now you do too.'
She pulls the car up into a spot a few blocks up from the karaoke bar and gives him a knowing look when he says 'it's been nice.']
[ Not inaccurate, though, which is why he doesn't follow up with any clarifications or rebuttals.
He climbs out of the car once they've stopped, glancing around the street. He's never been in the city proper and has only seen New York in movies and TV shows. Maybe in a few months, after his grandfather is finished with their "You All Thought I Was Crazy to Believe Peter Quill Was Still Alive, But Who's Laughing Now?" road show, Peter will hit up all the big landmarks.
He's content to walk alongside, assuming any of the buildings on their path could be their stop – up until he notices the sign with a neon green alien head with its big, black almond-shaped eyes.
He lets out a disgusted laugh, but the overtone is more amusement than anything. ]
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how willing are you to help me find a spot to land a space ship?
i mean it'll be cloaked, but i'd still rather not plop it down where any random guy can bump into it and try to impound it
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I'll find a helipad you can use.
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the willingness to let me screw around with spaceships on earth
let me know when you're done tampering with what may or may not be a crime scene and whenever you're not in immediate danger of being arrested and i can meet you
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If it were even 10 years ago I'd suggest you consider something else. But the average person is either used to seeing them or will think it's a high tech jet.
I should be done with the first part soon. The second part I'll give a couple of hours to make sure nothing got picked up.
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probably goes without saying but be careful with whatever it is you're doing that i prefer not to know too many details about for plausible deniability
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If I get caught at this point in my career without meaning to, I deserve to get caught.
But I'll still be careful.
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just don't get shot or anything. otherwise my trip to new york is going to be seriously wasted
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The likelihood of getting shot is going down dramatically by the moment. I'm now on the roof.
Are you texting while operating a spaceship?
[Don't throw stones in that glass house, Natasha.]
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also there aren't any stop signs to accidentally run up here, unless earth laws have changed a lot more than i expected
i'll see you in an hour so
[ And true to his word, he shows up a little over an hour later – if only because he is being careful, which means his ship is cloaked and he's going at a (semi-)reasonable speed. Even with his ship being practically invisible, breaking the sound barrier and creating a sonic boom is bound to draw a few curious gazes.
He lets the cloak drop once he touches down on the landing pad, revealing that he's taken one of the smaller M-ships in the Guardians' possession.
The bay doors on his ship twist open, and he steps down the landing ramp, he flashes her a wide grin. ]
Romanoff, my favorite spy. Long time, no see.
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[Weird that that's a thing you have to look out for now, but she's not sure her life has ever been normal.
When he arrives at the landing pad, she's leaning against the side of her black sports car, eyes on her phone screen as she finishes up a message with instructions regarding the crime scene she'd left behind earlier.
Her eyes lift as he approaches and her phone disappears into the pocket of her leather jacket, mouth curling into a smirk.]
Quill. My favorite...space pirate? I'd say 'intergalactic pen pal' but Rocket's kind of got you beat on that one. Where are you coming from?
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[ Though the tone of voice means he doesn't really care. He goes back and forth on the Ravager title, these days – mostly as a matter of convenience, more often than not.
He reaches the end of the ramp, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. He's conspicuously unarmed, and he's swapped his signature jacket for a bomber. If it weren't for the spaceship behind him, he wouldn't look too out of the ordinary if he were wandering down a crowded street. ]
I've been in Missouri. Visiting family.
[ And the brevity of his response means he's not likely to elaborate too much further – at least, not without a healthy heaping of alcohol. ]
You're not gonna take me anywhere that I'm gonna have to have a gun for, right?
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Doesn't surprise me that you're a midwestern boy. Did you know Ohio has the highest number of astronauts out of all the states?
[The question is accompanied by a quick grin that doesn't fade as she moves around the car to open up the driver's door.]
You can borrow one of mine if you need to. [Despite the fact that she doesn't look armed, well. She never leaves home without at least three weapons.]
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[ He takes the hint, moving over to the passenger side and slipping in. ]
I'd prefer for shootouts to be off the menu. I'm a little rusty.
[ That said, it's probably like riding a bike, isn't it? The threat of injury or death is an excellent motivator in learning or relearning a skill. ]
I'm guessing your crime scene is all good now?
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If it makes you feel better, I'm not expecting any shoot outs. [She just knows better than to jinx herself by saying 'we probably won't need any weapons at all.' That's a surefire way of ensuring someone goes rogue over karaoke.
She turns the key in the ignition and the car purrs to life. With a guileless look, she shifts into drive.] What crime scene?
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So I'm guessing it went good, then.
[ He leans back in the seat, glancing over at his ship as the cloak folds over the hull. It's not a perfect camouflage – looking directly at the ship calls to mind heat waves oscillating up from asphalt – but it's enough to blend in. ]
Telling you now, if this was just a ruse to get me to land my ship so your guys can dismantle it for parts, I'm gonna be so pissed.
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She glances over at his ship as the cloaking technology ripples over it, then pulls the car out of its spot and onto the access road. Her voice is amused when she answers in a way that suggests she knows her response isn't helpful.] I wouldn't make it this obvious if that was the goal.
[She taps a dot on the dash display and the security gate at the end of the drive lifts.] Fury's interested in cloaking technology, but not interested enough to send me after it yet. This is a strictly karaoke based visit. [Though, to be fair - ] But I'll probably tell him if there's anything big going on out there you tell me about.
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The clarification, at least, does a little more to reassure him. Setting the ground rules for their conversation? That's good. That's fine. If he were in knowledge of some kind of life-threatening technology or intergalactic menace, he would want Earth to be prepared – seeing as how he's living on it, and probably will be for a while. ]
Only thing I can think of is that there's been a roster change on the Guardians. Rocket can tell you more about that.
And also, the exchange rate from intergalactic units to the US Dollar sucks.
[ Which is his way of saying that there's nothing to worry about. Yet. ]
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She glances over at him with a grin when he mentions the exchange rate, then pulls the car out onto the main road.]
Sounds like I'm buying drinks, then. This mean you're retired?
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Part of his charm. He says it's attention-grabbing. Plus, he thinks it's funny that it looks like yelling.
And I'm retired, but with a dot, dot, dot and a question mark at the end. I'm not opposed to the idea of a sequel.
[ In the later years, the Guardians of the Galaxy's coffers were surprisingly flush. In living up to their name and saving planets and systems and the galaxy at large from every bad guy with a superiority complex, they received a lot of units as recompense. (Occasionally, a well-meaning parent might offer up their offspring for marriage, but only Kraglin ever seemed to take them up on that.) When he took his severance, he had enough in his accounts that he didn't really have to take up a job on Earth.
(He probably would, though, eventually. Just out of boredom. Not that he has any inkling on what. He could hardly work a desk job, after all.)
But he's not saying no to free drinks. ]
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Everyone coped differently. She'll never try to claim she coped well.
The traffic is fairly light, and Natasha moves the car easily through the cars as she navigates them toward their destination, a karaoke bar called Space that has an alien head logo. Yes, she thinks she's hilarious.
She hums knowingly when he describes the conditions of his retirement.] No one in this line of work ever really retires. What are you going to do while you're on Earth? I can send you some sudoku puzzles.
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I was thinking maybe I'd catch up on reading, see some of the movies and listen to some of the music I'd missed. Then I'd get really bored and do something endearingly well-meaning but ultimately misguided and until someone arrives on my doorstep, hat in hand, to tell me that they've got a job only I can do.
[ He pauses for a second before clicking his tongue. ]
Mostly I'm pretty sure my grandpa wants to take me on a grand tour of the greater Quill clan so he can crow about how he was right all along that I wasn't actually murdered in 1988.
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Pretty detailed plan for a guy that's newly retired. Anyone introduce you to spotify yet? It could keep you busy on the music front for the next twenty years.
[She can't help but chuckle a little at the idea of a Quill family tour. It's a sweet mental image. And she's got a secret soft spot for a family reunion.] Must be nice for your grandpa to be proved right. How are you feeling about seeing the whole family? [As nice as the idea is, she can imagine it could stir up some complicated emotions. Especially given what she knows about the way he left Earth as a kid.]
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Yeah, my grandpa's wife's son set me up with an account. [ Does that make the guy Peter's step-uncle? God, family trees are weird. ] You ever get paralyzed by choice?
[ He thought the over 300 songs on his Zune was a luxury. Now he's got well over 30 years of backlog to catch up on, and he has no earthly idea on how to start.
Ah, and there's the tough question. Peter doesn't answer immediately, because it's a whole mess of complexity. It's been weird. But it's been good, too. But weird. Maybe at some point everyone will stop feeling like strangers, and they'll stop treating him as a bizarre novelty, but it's all still too new. But that isn't exactly fun "we're gonna go get varying degrees of tipsy and sing karaoke" conversation, so Peter settles on the safest, blandest answer: ]
It's been nice.
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Weirdly you're not even the second guy I know that's got decades of media to catch up on. I'll send you some of my playlists.
[Some of them are helpful. Some of them are just because she thinks they're funny, like 'it's 2002 and you're at a slumber party' and 'we all had to suffer through screamo bands and now you do too.'
She pulls the car up into a spot a few blocks up from the karaoke bar and gives him a knowing look when he says 'it's been nice.']
Family reunions are weird, huh?
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[ Not inaccurate, though, which is why he doesn't follow up with any clarifications or rebuttals.
He climbs out of the car once they've stopped, glancing around the street. He's never been in the city proper and has only seen New York in movies and TV shows. Maybe in a few months, after his grandfather is finished with their "You All Thought I Was Crazy to Believe Peter Quill Was Still Alive, But Who's Laughing Now?" road show, Peter will hit up all the big landmarks.
He's content to walk alongside, assuming any of the buildings on their path could be their stop – up until he notices the sign with a neon green alien head with its big, black almond-shaped eyes.
He lets out a disgusted laugh, but the overtone is more amusement than anything. ]
Funny, Romanoff. I forget you're funny.
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