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[ The sun is well below the horizon when the headlights of McCree’s Jeep crest the top of the crater. He actually has to put the thing in park for a minute and just stare, because this is some serious damage. It’s hard to tell what’s at the center from here, even when he flips his brights on, so he opts to back the vehicle up and park it somewhere hidden and hoof it.
With a flashlight in one hand and the other resting on the pistol holstered at his side, he makes his way carefully down towards the center of the crater.
Once he’s close enough, his flashlight catches a glint of the charred metal of the pod, and he slows his approach. The rock theory was starting to look unlikely, and who knows what might be lurking down here. ]
Olly olly oxenfree?
With a flashlight in one hand and the other resting on the pistol holstered at his side, he makes his way carefully down towards the center of the crater.
Once he’s close enough, his flashlight catches a glint of the charred metal of the pod, and he slows his approach. The rock theory was starting to look unlikely, and who knows what might be lurking down here. ]
Olly olly oxenfree?
[ Before the noise of the Jeep’s engine, of tires rolling over rock, Peter spots the beams of light as they crest over the lip of the crater – pretty hard to miss, after all, considering it’s nearly pitch black out here, save for the dim light cast by the pod’s controls on the (miraculously still working) console. Peter wishes he had brought along his little plasma ball, but his usual satchel of gadgets seemed unnecessary for the original mission.
He shuffles further back into the pod, hoping to use it as cover, and slips his gun from its holster at his hip. The sound of cascading sand and pebbles reaches him – someone climbing, he thinks – and his hand tightens around his blaster’s grip. Common sense would tell him that it’s probably some curious person who followed the shooting star of his ship to its landing place, but he’s not exactly thinking straight. He worries one of the Bad Guys from the ship had followed him down here, hoping to reclaim the information he’d stolen.
The catchphrase, though, catches him entirely off-guard.
It’s a few seconds before he finally calls out, ]
Um.
[ a pause. ]
… Who are you?
He shuffles further back into the pod, hoping to use it as cover, and slips his gun from its holster at his hip. The sound of cascading sand and pebbles reaches him – someone climbing, he thinks – and his hand tightens around his blaster’s grip. Common sense would tell him that it’s probably some curious person who followed the shooting star of his ship to its landing place, but he’s not exactly thinking straight. He worries one of the Bad Guys from the ship had followed him down here, hoping to reclaim the information he’d stolen.
The catchphrase, though, catches him entirely off-guard.
It’s a few seconds before he finally calls out, ]
Um.
[ a pause. ]
… Who are you?
[ Well, that doesn’t sound like how he’d expect an alien to sound so. Progress? ]
I reckon that’s my line.
[ The beam of McCree’s flashlight sweeps over the wreckage, looking for the source of the voice. ]
Name’s McCree. I ain’t inclined to shoot first and ask questions later, so you can come out.
I reckon that’s my line.
[ The beam of McCree’s flashlight sweeps over the wreckage, looking for the source of the voice. ]
Name’s McCree. I ain’t inclined to shoot first and ask questions later, so you can come out.
[ Peter was not a stranger to playing a part.
In addition to being a renowned thief (at least in his own mind), Peter was also an accomplished conman (again, in his own mind), which meant he knew how to manipulate and read body language, knew when and how to smile, knew what words to say to defuse a situation. He used words as tools, considered them malleable little things, and could charm and talk his way out of more than a few charged situations.
In short? Peter Quill was a liar.
He and Galenia easily moved through the crowds, the former turning up the charm and wearing an easy smile, the latter leveraging her reputation like a weapon and playing up the femme fatale angle. Gideon and Rocket seemed to be doing alright, and even Dieguez managed to hold it together, and for a little while there, Peter really thought they might be able to manage this impossible mission.
While the other three were pounding back drinks, Peter and Galenia found themselves a secluded little area to compare notes – using coy, obfuscated language in case anyone was listening – and suddenly a kind word or two led to the two of them brushing closer together. And maybe Peter drank a few too many himself, because he inched forward, ducking down slowly to catch Galenia’s mouth with his, and—
A lot of things happened at once. First, a knife found its way to his throat, pushing him back, and Peter found himself wondering just where the hell Galenia was hiding that. Before she could murder him, however, the cacophony of glass shattering and tables toppling caught their attention. Something cold plummeted in Peter’s gut, and a glance at Galenia showed him she felt the same sensation, and together they rushed to the scene.
They arrived just as Dieguez had apparently wrestled his way out of Gideon’s grip, and shoved him away. Somehow, Peter found himself standing between two veritable titans, hands held up to keep the two of them at bay. ]
What the hell are you guys doing?
In addition to being a renowned thief (at least in his own mind), Peter was also an accomplished conman (again, in his own mind), which meant he knew how to manipulate and read body language, knew when and how to smile, knew what words to say to defuse a situation. He used words as tools, considered them malleable little things, and could charm and talk his way out of more than a few charged situations.
In short? Peter Quill was a liar.
He and Galenia easily moved through the crowds, the former turning up the charm and wearing an easy smile, the latter leveraging her reputation like a weapon and playing up the femme fatale angle. Gideon and Rocket seemed to be doing alright, and even Dieguez managed to hold it together, and for a little while there, Peter really thought they might be able to manage this impossible mission.
While the other three were pounding back drinks, Peter and Galenia found themselves a secluded little area to compare notes – using coy, obfuscated language in case anyone was listening – and suddenly a kind word or two led to the two of them brushing closer together. And maybe Peter drank a few too many himself, because he inched forward, ducking down slowly to catch Galenia’s mouth with his, and—
A lot of things happened at once. First, a knife found its way to his throat, pushing him back, and Peter found himself wondering just where the hell Galenia was hiding that. Before she could murder him, however, the cacophony of glass shattering and tables toppling caught their attention. Something cold plummeted in Peter’s gut, and a glance at Galenia showed him she felt the same sensation, and together they rushed to the scene.
They arrived just as Dieguez had apparently wrestled his way out of Gideon’s grip, and shoved him away. Somehow, Peter found himself standing between two veritable titans, hands held up to keep the two of them at bay. ]
What the hell are you guys doing?
[ The comment isn’t as reassuring as the guy probably means it to be, because Peter takes a long while to weigh his options. There’s the real possibility that the guy is lying and will totally shoot him in the face the second he shows himself, but he could also just, you know, walk up and shoot Peter just as easily. It’s not like Peter’s in any condition to put up much of a fight, at the moment. Maybe best to play along, for now, and make a run for it if things start going south.
It’s a few more moments before Peter manages to pull himself out of the ship, leaning against the pod’s shattered hull for support. He turns toward the source of the voice and the light, his bad arm held tightly against his side; he isn’t exactly looking his best, slightly singed and smears of soot on face and clothes. His blaster stays lowered for now, though still in hand.
Warily, ] What do you want?
It’s a few more moments before Peter manages to pull himself out of the ship, leaning against the pod’s shattered hull for support. He turns toward the source of the voice and the light, his bad arm held tightly against his side; he isn’t exactly looking his best, slightly singed and smears of soot on face and clothes. His blaster stays lowered for now, though still in hand.
Warily, ] What do you want?
[ It's... a guy! A normal, if extremely worse of the wear, looking guy. He notes the gun with a flick of his gaze, his free hand still resting on his trusty Peacekeeper at his side.
He lowers his flashlight so as not to blind the guy, giving them both an opportunity to see ]
I wanna figure out what made a big ol' hole in the middle of the desert.
You weren't in that thing, were ya?
He lowers his flashlight so as not to blind the guy, giving them both an opportunity to see ]
I wanna figure out what made a big ol' hole in the middle of the desert.
You weren't in that thing, were ya?
[ Peter picks out a few details on his own – spots the guy’s gun, notes the glint of metal (gold and silver and bullet casings) – and while he doesn’t raise his blaster, neither does he move to holster it, either.
He glances over at the pod at the guy’s – McCree’s, he corrects – question, and lifts his good shoulder in a shrug. ]
It would’ve been a messier landing if I hadn’t.
[ well, that’s not entirely accurate, but there certainly would’ve been a whole lot more vaporization. ]
He glances over at the pod at the guy’s – McCree’s, he corrects – question, and lifts his good shoulder in a shrug. ]
It would’ve been a messier landing if I hadn’t.
[ well, that’s not entirely accurate, but there certainly would’ve been a whole lot more vaporization. ]
[ He spends a moment looking from the pod to the man and back. ] You got a name, partner?
[ A hesitation. Then, ]
Quill. Peter Quill.
[ And because old habits die hard, ]
People call me Star-Lord.
Quill. Peter Quill.
[ And because old habits die hard, ]
People call me Star-Lord.
[ Considering the people he keeps company with, he doesn't bat an eye at the call sign. ]
I'm gonna be straight with you: I ain't the only one who's comin' to take a look at this, but I am probably the nicest. I got like a million questions, but I'd rather not ask 'em here.
Besides, you look like you could use a doctor.
I'm gonna be straight with you: I ain't the only one who's comin' to take a look at this, but I am probably the nicest. I got like a million questions, but I'd rather not ask 'em here.
Besides, you look like you could use a doctor.
[ The reminder makes his arm ache, and he grimaces, gritting his teeth and bowing his head. ]
—I can’t.
[ The words escape his lips before he thinks on it. He glances at the pod again. ] I have to stay. With the beacon. My team…
[ Peter got separated from the others during the raid, because of-fucking-course he did. He thinks they’re on his way to find him, but despite what the songs might insist, the Earth is not a very small world after all. No telling how it’ll take to dig out his distress signal with all the interference bouncing around the planet.
Assuming they managed to fight their way back to the Milano and weren’t nursing wounds of their own.
He grimaces again. It hadn’t occurred to him till now that they might not have made it out. He sounds uncertain when he continues, ] My team’s on their way.
—I can’t.
[ The words escape his lips before he thinks on it. He glances at the pod again. ] I have to stay. With the beacon. My team…
[ Peter got separated from the others during the raid, because of-fucking-course he did. He thinks they’re on his way to find him, but despite what the songs might insist, the Earth is not a very small world after all. No telling how it’ll take to dig out his distress signal with all the interference bouncing around the planet.
Assuming they managed to fight their way back to the Milano and weren’t nursing wounds of their own.
He grimaces again. It hadn’t occurred to him till now that they might not have made it out. He sounds uncertain when he continues, ] My team’s on their way.
[ He opens his mouth to reply, but the horizon of the crater ahead of him suddenly illuminates. The sound of engines isn't far behind. ]
Unless they're comin' in the next two minutes, we need to go. You want another beacon, I know a guy who can build you one.
[ "Guy", "gorilla". Same thing. ]
Unless they're comin' in the next two minutes, we need to go. You want another beacon, I know a guy who can build you one.
[ "Guy", "gorilla". Same thing. ]
[ Peter turns, sees the light brightening the other side of the crater, hears the rumble of car engines (plural, he notes warily) moving toward them, and his mind races. People often accuse him of recklessness, of not looking before he leaps, but Peter prefers to call them calculated risks.
He does the math, and he doesn't like his odds.
He ducks into the pod long enough to pull out the case holding the disks he'd pilfered. ]
Not friends of yours?
He does the math, and he doesn't like his odds.
He ducks into the pod long enough to pull out the case holding the disks he'd pilfered. ]
Not friends of yours?
I'd bet it's the Deadlocks, so no, we ain't exactly pals.
[ Ex-pals, more like. The gang has been under new management since McCree left, and he feels like they're even worse than before.
The vehicles are getting closer, three sets of high beams shining over the edge of the crater. ]
[ Ex-pals, more like. The gang has been under new management since McCree left, and he feels like they're even worse than before.
The vehicles are getting closer, three sets of high beams shining over the edge of the crater. ]
[ Grabbing the case means holstering his gun at long last, and the lack of a weapon sets his teeth on edge. Now that he's made the decision to follow McCree's lead, though, he doesn't dally – once he has the case, he hurries over to the other man. ]
We'd better go, then. I hate watching people argue.
We'd better go, then. I hate watching people argue.
I'm parked up here. [ He motions with his flashlight for Peter to go first, and he follows close behind.
Meanwhile, there's shouting from the top of the crater as the three vehicles come to a stop. ]
If you got it in you to run, maybe do that.
Meanwhile, there's shouting from the top of the crater as the three vehicles come to a stop. ]
If you got it in you to run, maybe do that.
[ Running sounds awful right now, but when needs must— ]
Are all cowboys this bossy?
[ It's the only complaint he offers before he sets off, mentally patting himself on the back for only limping a little. ]
Are all cowboys this bossy?
[ It's the only complaint he offers before he sets off, mentally patting himself on the back for only limping a little. ]
Only when we don't wanna get shot.
[ Peacekeeper doesn't have the range to make it to the other side of the crater, so if the Deadlocks are packing more of a punch, then they're both screwed.
Speaking of the Deadlocks, one of their vehicles is a flatbed truck with a searchlight mounted on it. The light pours into the crater, lingering on the pod at the bottom. It's a good thing it does, because they're nearly at the edge of the crater when the light finally drifts their way. McCree's a hairsbreadth away from just shoving Peter out of the crater to avoid getting spotted, but he doesn't quite make a move in time. The light pours over the both of them, and McCree swears. ]
Go. Jeep's just behind that rock over on the left.
[ Hey McCree! someone shouts. Where do you think you're goin'? ]
Can it Delgado! I ain't got time to play with you boys right now.
[ Aw. That's no way to say hi to an old friend. I even brought you a present! What folows is what sounds like an awful lot of guns being cocked. McCree isn' going to stand around and find out, he turns tail ad runs for all he's worth toward the Jeep, where hopefully Peter's already waiting. ]
[ Peacekeeper doesn't have the range to make it to the other side of the crater, so if the Deadlocks are packing more of a punch, then they're both screwed.
Speaking of the Deadlocks, one of their vehicles is a flatbed truck with a searchlight mounted on it. The light pours into the crater, lingering on the pod at the bottom. It's a good thing it does, because they're nearly at the edge of the crater when the light finally drifts their way. McCree's a hairsbreadth away from just shoving Peter out of the crater to avoid getting spotted, but he doesn't quite make a move in time. The light pours over the both of them, and McCree swears. ]
Go. Jeep's just behind that rock over on the left.
[ Hey McCree! someone shouts. Where do you think you're goin'? ]
Can it Delgado! I ain't got time to play with you boys right now.
[ Aw. That's no way to say hi to an old friend. I even brought you a present! What folows is what sounds like an awful lot of guns being cocked. McCree isn' going to stand around and find out, he turns tail ad runs for all he's worth toward the Jeep, where hopefully Peter's already waiting. ]
[ Probably a good thing no shoving was involved – it probably would've startled Peter enough into stumbling and falling face-first into the packed sand.
When the light falls on them, nearly blinding Peter with how bright it is, he wastes no time in following McCree's direction. He's in no mood or condition to fight, not at full force, and he pushes himself toward the Jeep; when he finds it, he slides into the passenger seat and does McCree the kindness of getting the vehicle started. And also? The kindness of not driving off without him.
Look at this guy. What a gentleman. ]
When the light falls on them, nearly blinding Peter with how bright it is, he wastes no time in following McCree's direction. He's in no mood or condition to fight, not at full force, and he pushes himself toward the Jeep; when he finds it, he slides into the passenger seat and does McCree the kindness of getting the vehicle started. And also? The kindness of not driving off without him.
Look at this guy. What a gentleman. ]
[ McCree will be sure to thank him for it later. As it is, he skirts around the rock, just ahead of a spray of bullets. He hops into the Jeep, jamming it into drive and flooring it.
By the time they make it back to the main road, there's a single pair of headlights gaining on them fast, so McCree does what any sensible person would do. He cuts the headlights and veers off the road, seeking shelter behind a dilapidated billboard apparently forgotten by time. Once they're there, he cuts the engine, too, and waits.
Their pursuers have slowed to a crawl by the time they get close, four flashlight beams shining out from the old pickup, searching for their quarry. At McCree's guess there's probably five of them, one for each flashlight plus the driver.
Quietly, he says, ] How good a shot are you?
By the time they make it back to the main road, there's a single pair of headlights gaining on them fast, so McCree does what any sensible person would do. He cuts the headlights and veers off the road, seeking shelter behind a dilapidated billboard apparently forgotten by time. Once they're there, he cuts the engine, too, and waits.
Their pursuers have slowed to a crawl by the time they get close, four flashlight beams shining out from the old pickup, searching for their quarry. At McCree's guess there's probably five of them, one for each flashlight plus the driver.
Quietly, he says, ] How good a shot are you?
Pretty damn good.
[ Grimly, quietly, as he tracks the movement of the men nearby. It seems current events have done little to dampen his confidence, at least.
Still, he wishes he had his bag of toys. His little electromagnet would make quick work of the truck and the men's weapons, turn them into sitting ducks. ]
We shooting our way outta this?
[ Grimly, quietly, as he tracks the movement of the men nearby. It seems current events have done little to dampen his confidence, at least.
Still, he wishes he had his bag of toys. His little electromagnet would make quick work of the truck and the men's weapons, turn them into sitting ducks. ]
We shooting our way outta this?
Yup.
[ He'd rather not spend his night outrunning these assholes, and it's not like he can be on any worse terms with the gang as it is.
He reaches back under his serape, unhooking a small, metallic cylinder with glowing blue accents from his belt. He hefts it in his robotic hand. ]
You might wanna close your eyes.
[ It's no electromagnet, but a flashbang in the dark will probably do the trick. ]
[ He'd rather not spend his night outrunning these assholes, and it's not like he can be on any worse terms with the gang as it is.
He reaches back under his serape, unhooking a small, metallic cylinder with glowing blue accents from his belt. He hefts it in his robotic hand. ]
You might wanna close your eyes.
[ It's no electromagnet, but a flashbang in the dark will probably do the trick. ]
[ Peter has a lot of questions about a lot of things, like who the hell are those dudes, and who the hell is this dude, and why does he have a metal glove, and who seriously still wears a poncho these days, and just what the hell is happening?
But he swallows them down, clicking his blaster from its holster and covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow. ]
Waiting on your mark.
But he swallows them down, clicking his blaster from its holster and covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow. ]
Waiting on your mark.
[ McCree lobs the flashbang towards the truck with practiced ease, taking some satisfaction in the clatter that sounds when it lands in the bed of the truck. The sharpshooter shields his own eyes, and one of the man manages to exclaim "What the fu--" before the flashbang goes off.
Over the startled cries of the men in the truck, McCree shouts, ] Now!
[It's high noon muthafuckas-- McCree brings his pistol up and puts a hole through the passenger and the driver, made easier since the passenger dropped his flashlight somewhere in the cab, illuminating them both. ]
Over the startled cries of the men in the truck, McCree shouts, ] Now!
[
Edited (darn you html!!) 2016-07-02 06:23 (UTC)
[ At McCree's signal, Peter stands and brings his gun arm up, bracing his wrist on the top of the Jeep's windshield. Another fallen flashlight in the bed of the truck lights up another couple of men, and Peter takes only a half-second to aim. Two blasts of concussive fire fly from his blaster, slamming into the chests of another couple of men. They fall with quiet gurgles, the truck rocking with the impact of their bodies. ]
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