[Dieguez walked slowly to Quill's chosen destination, thinking on many things. Where could he possibly begin? Calmly, he began to remove the very large, grey tuxedo jacket that had been given to him for this mission. Never had he owned something so nice, but he didn't seem to regret removing such a heavy outer-garment.
With ease, the very nice shirt-sleeve over his right arm was rolled a little near his shoulder. Even in this dark, the vivid red hues of his tattoos were not quieted.] We talked about my tattoos. I said some things. They'd said some things. I was not pleased with what they said.
[ Admittedly, Peter had been curious about Dieguez's tattoos ever since he first saw them, but he decided it was better not to ask. Those stories tended to get personal quick, and while Peter had no qualms in learning about his teammates, some of them – Dieguez certainly included – seemed to have a short fuse and were liable to shut down at the wrong comment.
... Or to throw fists, as tonight's events showed.
In any case, Peter's gaze flicked down to Dieguez's bared arm, glancing over the red markings licking up his skin. ]
I--[Dieguez had broken eye-contact, lost in the world contained on his right arm. How long ago it had felt, when such a thing was inscribed.
The young man who'd had this done to him. What had happened to that young idiot, who endured the procedure and the three, painful weeks after the process? What became of the fool, who did all this to impress the woman who became his wife? Was that man still in these tattoos, or was it only his ghost haunting these images?
Dieguez spoke slowly, as he rolled that sleeve back over the jagged red marks.] Many of my tattoos are for my family, I'd said. One is for my wife, one for my father, and one for my daughter's birth. I told them that I'd only cried once, when my beautiful daughter was born. They'd asked why I did not cry when my wife and daughter perished. I told them they did not understand grief. Rocket misunderstood what I'd meant, and he began to tell me about his mother.
[With his arm covered once again, Dieguez looked up to gauge a reaction.] I still don't think he knows.
[ Part of him understood why Rocket and Gideon would ask a question like that, but Peter also knew that grief was a funny thing, made people react in ways that were surprising. Dieguez reacted by compartmentalizing and seeking revenge, slaughtering his way up to the top. Others reacted by slamming down a door and running and running and running, until they could pretend their problems were impossibly far behind them.
Peter drew his lips into a thin, solemn line, gaze drifting away from Dieguez's tattoos to the shoreline, where the ocean churned and crashed against the sands. ]
So they asked a shitty question, and you tried to cave in Gideon's face? [ Despite his words, his voice was level, surprisingly neutral. ] What did you think that would prove, exactly?
[Peter had a point, and Dieguez knew it. That didn't stop his brow from furrowing or his features from stiffening up and setting. Violence had become something too natural to him, much as one breathes. It had seemed evident to him why he did such a thing, yet, now, he faced difficulty in explaining this reaction.
El Durante blinked once, and then,] Do you know what it is, to take your family on a trip? You work hard to save up for it all year, you pack and you plan, and you think of what you can do, as a family, to have fun and create the nicest memories.
And do you know what it is, to drive back from all of that in a bullet-ridden car? To force yourself to drive on, even after your little girl in the back seat has stopped crying and your wife has stopped moving? Even after the night has fallen, your radio only picks up static, and your engine has died, you still move because you know you must.
Do you know how any of that feels? To build your life around one weekend, and to spend so long building something you believe is unbreakable, only to have all of it undone in a day?
Do you know what it is, to feel like nothing, to become something, and, then, become nothing again? [As Dieguez spoke, his eyes did not water or look away. There was no sadness in his tone. Grief was weak, and he would not be weak.
He could never allow himself to be weak again.] That was what I wished to prove. They refused to listen, so I tried to show them in another way. [This wasn't a nice tactic. He knew it, but Dieguez saw this as a way of confronting the issue perhaps, it really was no different than slamming a door and running, but nobody with two brain cells would even attempt to let him hear that.]
The story surprised the hell out of him. Peter had heard, of course, that Dieguez had lost his wife and daughter, knew that the loss had been the catalyst for his violent spree, but he never asked for the particulars of it. Maybe he should have, but— too late now.
He fell silent as Dieguez spoke, watching him as if seeing him for the first time, and when Dieguez finished saying his piece, Peter stayed silent for a moment. Then a second moment. Then a third. At a complete loss for words.
Then, softly, ]
I'm sorry. About your family.
[ A rare bit of sincerity from Peter, who made his life on lying through his teeth.
He took another second to gather his thoughts, and when he spoke again, he spoke slowly, as if picking his words with care. ]
You're right, though. I don't know how any of that feels. [ Peter had experienced loss of his own, sure, but he would never pretend that his experience was the same as Dieguez's, nor would he presume that Dieguez would understand how Peter felt. ] Gideon and Rocket don't know how that feels, either. What you went through isn't the kinda shit that's gonna be all that relatable, you know?
But breaking a guy's nose isn't gonna make him understand whatever it is you feel – it's just gonna piss people off. And we're all supposed to be on the same side, here. We're a team. You guys don't have to hold hands and make friendship bracelets, but we've gotta trust each other.
[It was right when Peter offered his condolences that Dieguez broke eye-contact and turned away. How were apologies for things like this meant to be taken again? He could no longer recall.
The spiel Quill delivered afterwards certainly did nothing to help. All of it he knew to be true. Too damned true. But hearing it didn't make such a thing pleasant to hear. With a shake of his head and a few steps forward,] I don't believe any of them trust me, so why should I trust them?
[ ... mostly true. Peter at least trusted that Dieguez was looking to kill Ronan, and that subterfuge wasn't the guy's style. He trusted that Dieguez had no interest in currying the favor of any of the new assholes they met today, and that Peter didn't have to worry about Dieguez being swayed away from their mission, such as it was, by promises of fortune or favor.
But Peter never trusted completely. Bad habit of his, borne from his days with York and York's mercenary band, but it had served him well till now. ]
Maybe they don't trust you 'cause so far, you've been trying really hard to knock everyone's teeth out.
[Dieguez said nothing for some time. Instead, his eyes were turned skywards. Almost mechanically, those large hands of his reopened that jacket and, one arm at a time, the suit went back on. Even though it was a half-hearted trust that was presented before him, this had been more than he'd been given in too long a time.
Very abruptly,] Given my actions and my unpredictability, I wouldn't have trusted me either. If you hadn't followed me, I honestly don't know what I would have done.
[These next two words come out staggering, undignified and inelegant; these words are a little care-worn and simple, but, perhaps, they still meant something. For what would any world be, where these next two words meant nothing between two people that trusted each other, even to a rather limited degree?] Thank you.
[ The sincerity in his voice took him aback; probably for the best that Dieguez wasn't looking at him in that moment, because for a little while there, all Peter could manage was to blink at him owlishly, unsure of how to respond.
He could say the normal thing, offer a glib, "Any time," and let the matter drop – because genuine discourse gave Peter hives and was so far out of his realm of expertise as to be in another universe entirely – but Peter got the feeling Dieguez's thanks was hard-earned and not freely offered. It'd be a dick move to brush it off, he figured.
So after a moment, he stepped up beside Dieguez, hands still in his pockets, and cast him a careful, sidelong glance. ]
[Dieguez returned that glance with one of his own. Before the taller man could give so much more than an affirmative grunt, the stillness of this world outside of the tents was broken by an animalish beckoning. He turned behind, re-setting his sights on the wedding they'd left some minutes ago.
Well. It appeared that a little, barking dog was leading the wedding guests in a mass-exodus. Where were they headed? It appeared that they were moving toward the east side of the mansion. Why were they headed there? Dieguez knew not, yet, with each bay from the little animal, he felt more and more compelled to rejoin the other guests; without a second thought, the ex-con bent forward, lifted up a pant leg, and drew a concealed knife.
Hushed, moving cautiously in the direction of the mansion,] Remain on guard, Companion.
[ Peter turned when Dieguez did, startled by the sudden influx of noise. A sigh escaped his lips and the first thought to rise to the surface was, What the hell did we do now?
(It likely said a whole damn lot about Peter's relationship with this ragtag group that his first assumption was that one of his teammates were at fault. Whoops.)
His pistols sat in shoulder holsters tucked beneath his jacket, but he didn't reach for them just yet. Looking unarmed and vulnerable was the best way to catch anyone off-guard, in Peter's experience. When Dieguez moved, Peter followed after him, taking the other man's caution as a cue to move carefully himself, keeping a wary eye out and remaining alert. ]
Where the hell did that dog come from?
[ Because that was the important question to ask, here. ]
[TBF, Peter just narrowly prevented one of his team-members from metaphorically blowing their covers. Just sayin'.The canine licked its jowls, yipping as it approached a somewhat tall man in a very flamboyant outfit.
Ah. Right. Teran. The father of the bride. El Recaudador.] It looks like the dog is his. [The frown on Dieguez's face deepened, as he witnessed Teran's manners. This dog was incredibly affectionate, licking the man's fingertips and nuzzling its forehead against his master's palm. In return for its gestures, the dog did not even receive a glance.] What do you make of a man, who cannot return affection for someone that loves him terribly?
[ As a rule, Peter loved canines. Which was why he said, ]
Anyone who's a dick to their dogs deserves a punch to the mouth.
[ But Teran hadn't performed a punchable offense just yet, aside from not showering his pet with scritches, and only earned a slight narrowing of Peter's eyes. Looking around, back at the tent, Peter frowned. ]
The sociopath is speaking and making grandiose gestures. [Because in Arturo's book, only sociopaths treated such loving dogs so callously. Anyway, Teran was lifting his arms, in the grand manner of a Roman emperor, and directing everyone's attention to the side of his mansion. It appeared that a movie was being projected on this wall for all to see. Dieguez squinted, in disbelief at the film being shown.] This does not look like an appropriate film to show during a wedding.
[Instead of a slide-show of the couple, the images blown up and over the wall featured brightly colored rocks and people being eviscerated by larger, people-shaped blobs. It might have been the paint-job on the mansion, but the people appeared to have a very unusual coloration.
Some feet away from the mansion, a little past the shore and deeper in the ocean, a very large rectangle was rising. As the water sloshed, more and more of the box was revealed to be a large glass tank.
Contained within the cage, there appeared to be a live, sickly-looking whale. With a point of his knife, directed squarely in the middle of Teran's forehead,] He should not be allowed to make such terrible speeches at his own daughter's wedding. [Let alone, you know, anywhere.]
[ Peter watched Teran's presentation, growing more and more confused as the man spoke. He couldn't tell if this was just some weird, poorly planned and even more poorly timed screening of some amateur sci-fi film or what, but whatever the case, Peter nodded his agreement with Dieguez's assessment of the movie.
And he would have voiced his agreement, as well, except his gaze caught on the tank rising from the ocean's surface. His face went slack with surprise, and for a few seconds, he could only stare.
Then, when he finally found his voice, ]
What. The fuck.
[ If Dieguez's fight with Rocket and Gideon had forced this wedding reception off the rails, this presentation was most definitely driving it off a cliff. ]
I'm pretty sure a bad speech is the least of our worries, right now.
[With all of the visual stimuli running simultaneously, it had become too easy to lose track of the little dog. Not a moment after Teran pointed to the whale and proceeded to pontificate in the grandest manner, his dog returned to the scene with a wagging tail and something in his mouth. Eagerly, his master removed the object from his pet's mouth.
A ball?
Dieguez's eyes narrowed, curious.
The events in the next minute happened far too quickly in succession. The little doggy barked at the crowd, compelling them to step away. With a flourish, Teran tore the sphere's top off and aimed it in the direction of the whale.
The creature was consumed in a bright, purple flash, lasting only a few seconds. Only bits of glass and debris confirmed its existence.
Teran restored the orb's lid and began pointing to the crowd. Terrifyingly, they began to raise their hands and call out increasingly higher numbers.] He is auctioning that thing off to those murderers and terrorists! [Dieguez was uncertain why, but every instinct in him told him to run toward this group. Run and protect Peter. Run and find Galenia, Rocket, and Gideon. Run, before this sordid happening found a way to become even more incomprehensibly terrifying.]
[ The color drained from Peter's face after the demonstration, and an incredulous part of him still thought this might be a trick, thought it could be some sort of special effect. A magic trick, maybe.
But, no, Teran's audience seemed to believe him well enough, which was scary in itself, and Peter pulled himself together long enough to turn to Dieguez. ]
We find the others. We figure out what to do from there. [ Which might involve swiping the thing out from Teran's nose, but that was a risk they had to take. Peter might be a selfish person, but he wasn't selfish enough that he could ignore the disaster unfolding before his eyes.
[It wouldn't be too hard to find the others. Galenia stepped out of the crowd, raising a hand and calling out a very great number. And, just like that, Dieguez obeyed every burning impulse that flowed through his veins and ran toward the bunch, all while loudly muttering,] She can't be betraying us; she can't.
[And yet...there she was, bidding with the rest. A part of him was certain there had to be a good reason, even if such a thing eluded him at this time. Mere minutes ago, he'd trusted her. Sure, it wasn't to the greatest degree. But, it was there. Another part recalled the promise Quill had made, to placate him, weeks ago.
The last number that escaped her lips brought a hush to the party. A hush that hid daggers. Cautiously, the remaining pair from their group took their places next to Galenia. Rocket stood at her left, with his hands in his pockets. Gideon slouched at her right, with a very uncharacteristically hardened expression on his face.
When Dieguez arrived in their vicinity, would he take a place by her side as well?] Quill! Is she betraying us??! [Surely the Conman would have known; he should have predicted such a thing would take place, after getting to know her. His experience should have allowed him some insight into her personality that the rest were not privy to.
Unless, of course, his affection for her had blinded him.]
[ When Galenia's voice rang out, Peter blinked, stunned. For a moment, his thoughts mirrored Dieguez's words, and he felt that sting of betrayal in his gut.
As the bidding continued, though, his brain caught up with the situation, thoughts racing as he tried to make sense of this whole fucking mess. Galenia wouldn't do this. Not for nothing. The few moments they shared had shown him a side of Galenia he'd never seen before. Maybe the drink or the atmosphere had something to do with it, but for a second she seemed – vulnerable. Honest. It had to be a ruse. ]
No, this is perfect. [ He held out a hand without touching Dieguez, as if to keep the man in place. ] Whatever the hell that thing is, we don't want anyone else getting their hands on it. Galenia wins the bid, and we fucking book it, okay?
[Somehow, the message was received. Dieguez took one last step and, then, stopped; he tilted his head back, to look the Conman in the eyes, then turned back to watch Galenia.
As foolish as it sounded, this career shyster's word was one of the few that the former underground fighter trusted (and its contents featured something that he desperately wanted to believe). But, he did have to disagree about something:] We go to join them. Now. If she wins that bid, the three of them will be surrounded by some very powerful sore losers.
[The crowd wasn't so far. Slightly out of earshot. If they ran, now, the two of them would make it to the others within...maybe 5-8 minutes?
Yet, such horrible things had happened in even smaller increments of time. The scene before them gave off the dreaded feeling of a trap, about to spring. Dieguez focused his attention on Galenia, as he began to run.
Within half-a-minute, the bald, eye-patched bodyguard of the Accuser's had stepped out, looking directly at Galenia, and called out a large number of her own. The look she gave, for lack of a better word, was terribly inhuman.
A weapon like this in the hands of this woman and the Accuser seemed unbearable.]
Dieguez moved much faster than Peter expected, and when he darted off, Peter ended up a few strides behind. The other man reached the edges of the group far before Peter did, just as Galenia's si...ster(?) stepped forward and placed her bid.
In any other situation, Peter would've stepped back, let out a long, impressed whistle, and thought to himself, It must be nice to have that much money to throw around.
In the here and now, though, Peter simply balked, glancing over at Galenia, who seemed just as taken aback as he was – so much so that she had stopped bidding in favor of staring her sister down. With the two of them locked in whatever silent battle they were waging, and with Teran intoning, "Going once, going twice--" Peter did something incredibly stupid.
He forced himself to put on a calm facade and called out some ridiculous bid of his own. ]
[Almost as if in a cartoon, most of the wedding guests performed a double-take. The women were adopted daughters of a very influential man, and, with that influence, came certain monetary resources. Did Peter possess such funds to rival even that amount, or was this a lie?
Yeah, probably that.
"We can pay now, Teran," the bodyguard offered, with an odd rhythm to her words and an accent that warped her vowels. "In cash." And, with a snap of her fingers, the tall, rather thin Accuser apologized his way out of the crowd; as he struggled to carry a very hefty suitcase, the man gave his bodyguard a very dirty look that insisted he was supposed to be the boss.
Seeing that pathetic face brought back too many burning memories. Almost automatically, Dieguez lifted up his knife and threw it. The blade spun in the air for a half-second, before it landed in the dead-center of a palm, that had been placed before the Accuser's face at exactly the right time.
The Accuser's bodyguard winced, as she drew her pierced hand close to her face and pulled out the blade.] Shit.
And then Dieguez was throwing a knife, and that extra didn't work, a Peter watched with equal parts fascination and horror as Nevara, code name Nebula, wrenched the knife from her palm. (Two things crosses his mind, in that moment. The first was, Badass. The second one was, Oh. Shit.)
After that, Nevara launched the knife back in Dieguez's direction, but halfway through its flight, Galenia deflected it with her own blade. The knife buried itself blade first in the sand, and Galenia spared no time in turning, just as Nevara threw herself at her former sister.
The party, such as it was, fell into chaos, after that, with guards and lackeys moving in to protect their charges and make a giant mess of things. It reminded Peter more than a little of a bar fight, all directionless violence and chaos, but he ignored it as best he could, spotting Teran still standing on his little makeshift stage, surveying the brawl. The man seemed unperturbed by the turn of events – even looked slightly amused – and, most importantly, held the orb loosely at his side.
Welp, Peter thought. When opportunity knocks, right? ]
Dieguez! Rocket! [ He shouted it over the cacophony – the two closest team members he could see – unsure if his companions would be able to hear him. He hoped they would, and he added helpfully, as he started weaving his way through the throng, ] I'm gonna do something really stupid.
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With ease, the very nice shirt-sleeve over his right arm was rolled a little near his shoulder. Even in this dark, the vivid red hues of his tattoos were not quieted.] We talked about my tattoos. I said some things. They'd said some things. I was not pleased with what they said.
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... Or to throw fists, as tonight's events showed.
In any case, Peter's gaze flicked down to Dieguez's bared arm, glancing over the red markings licking up his skin. ]
What, exactly, did you guys say?
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The young man who'd had this done to him. What had happened to that young idiot, who endured the procedure and the three, painful weeks after the process? What became of the fool, who did all this to impress the woman who became his wife? Was that man still in these tattoos, or was it only his ghost haunting these images?
Dieguez spoke slowly, as he rolled that sleeve back over the jagged red marks.] Many of my tattoos are for my family, I'd said. One is for my wife, one for my father, and one for my daughter's birth. I told them that I'd only cried once, when my beautiful daughter was born. They'd asked why I did not cry when my wife and daughter perished. I told them they did not understand grief. Rocket misunderstood what I'd meant, and he began to tell me about his mother.
[With his arm covered once again, Dieguez looked up to gauge a reaction.] I still don't think he knows.
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Peter drew his lips into a thin, solemn line, gaze drifting away from Dieguez's tattoos to the shoreline, where the ocean churned and crashed against the sands. ]
So they asked a shitty question, and you tried to cave in Gideon's face? [ Despite his words, his voice was level, surprisingly neutral. ] What did you think that would prove, exactly?
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El Durante blinked once, and then,] Do you know what it is, to take your family on a trip? You work hard to save up for it all year, you pack and you plan, and you think of what you can do, as a family, to have fun and create the nicest memories.
And do you know what it is, to drive back from all of that in a bullet-ridden car? To force yourself to drive on, even after your little girl in the back seat has stopped crying and your wife has stopped moving? Even after the night has fallen, your radio only picks up static, and your engine has died, you still move because you know you must.
Do you know how any of that feels? To build your life around one weekend, and to spend so long building something you believe is unbreakable, only to have all of it undone in a day?
Do you know what it is, to feel like nothing, to become something, and, then, become nothing again? [As Dieguez spoke, his eyes did not water or look away. There was no sadness in his tone. Grief was weak, and he would not be weak.
He could never allow himself to be weak again.] That was what I wished to prove. They refused to listen, so I tried to show them in another way. [This wasn't a nice tactic. He knew it, but Dieguez saw this as a way of confronting the issue
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The story surprised the hell out of him. Peter had heard, of course, that Dieguez had lost his wife and daughter, knew that the loss had been the catalyst for his violent spree, but he never asked for the particulars of it. Maybe he should have, but— too late now.
He fell silent as Dieguez spoke, watching him as if seeing him for the first time, and when Dieguez finished saying his piece, Peter stayed silent for a moment. Then a second moment. Then a third. At a complete loss for words.
Then, softly, ]
I'm sorry. About your family.
[ A rare bit of sincerity from Peter, who made his life on lying through his teeth.
He took another second to gather his thoughts, and when he spoke again, he spoke slowly, as if picking his words with care. ]
You're right, though. I don't know how any of that feels. [ Peter had experienced loss of his own, sure, but he would never pretend that his experience was the same as Dieguez's, nor would he presume that Dieguez would understand how Peter felt. ] Gideon and Rocket don't know how that feels, either. What you went through isn't the kinda shit that's gonna be all that relatable, you know?
But breaking a guy's nose isn't gonna make him understand whatever it is you feel – it's just gonna piss people off. And we're all supposed to be on the same side, here. We're a team. You guys don't have to hold hands and make friendship bracelets, but we've gotta trust each other.
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The spiel Quill delivered afterwards certainly did nothing to help. All of it he knew to be true. Too damned true. But hearing it didn't make such a thing pleasant to hear. With a shake of his head and a few steps forward,] I don't believe any of them trust me, so why should I trust them?
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[ ... mostly true. Peter at least trusted that Dieguez was looking to kill Ronan, and that subterfuge wasn't the guy's style. He trusted that Dieguez had no interest in currying the favor of any of the new assholes they met today, and that Peter didn't have to worry about Dieguez being swayed away from their mission, such as it was, by promises of fortune or favor.
But Peter never trusted completely. Bad habit of his, borne from his days with York and York's mercenary band, but it had served him well till now. ]
Maybe they don't trust you 'cause so far, you've been trying really hard to knock everyone's teeth out.
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Very abruptly,] Given my actions and my unpredictability, I wouldn't have trusted me either. If you hadn't followed me, I honestly don't know what I would have done.
[These next two words come out staggering, undignified and inelegant; these words are a little care-worn and simple, but, perhaps, they still meant something. For what would any world be, where these next two words meant nothing between two people that trusted each other, even to a rather limited degree?] Thank you.
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He could say the normal thing, offer a glib, "Any time," and let the matter drop – because genuine discourse gave Peter hives and was so far out of his realm of expertise as to be in another universe entirely – but Peter got the feeling Dieguez's thanks was hard-earned and not freely offered. It'd be a dick move to brush it off, he figured.
So after a moment, he stepped up beside Dieguez, hands still in his pockets, and cast him a careful, sidelong glance. ]
I've got your back as long as you've got mine.
[ "You're welcome." ]
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Well. It appeared that a little, barking dog was leading the wedding guests in a mass-exodus. Where were they headed? It appeared that they were moving toward the east side of the mansion. Why were they headed there? Dieguez knew not, yet, with each bay from the little animal, he felt more and more compelled to rejoin the other guests; without a second thought, the ex-con bent forward, lifted up a pant leg, and drew a concealed knife.
Hushed, moving cautiously in the direction of the mansion,] Remain on guard, Companion.
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(It likely said a whole damn lot about Peter's relationship with this ragtag group that his first assumption was that one of his teammates were at fault. Whoops.)
His pistols sat in shoulder holsters tucked beneath his jacket, but he didn't reach for them just yet. Looking unarmed and vulnerable was the best way to catch anyone off-guard, in Peter's experience. When Dieguez moved, Peter followed after him, taking the other man's caution as a cue to move carefully himself, keeping a wary eye out and remaining alert. ]
Where the hell did that dog come from?
[ Because that was the important question to ask, here. ]
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TBF, Peter just narrowly prevented one of his team-members from metaphorically blowing their covers. Just sayin'.The canine licked its jowls, yipping as it approached a somewhat tall man in a very flamboyant outfit.Ah. Right. Teran. The father of the bride. El Recaudador.] It looks like the dog is his. [The frown on Dieguez's face deepened, as he witnessed Teran's manners. This dog was incredibly affectionate, licking the man's fingertips and nuzzling its forehead against his master's palm. In return for its gestures, the dog did not even receive a glance.] What do you make of a man, who cannot return affection for someone that loves him terribly?
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Anyone who's a dick to their dogs deserves a punch to the mouth.
[ But Teran hadn't performed a punchable offense just yet, aside from not showering his pet with scritches, and only earned a slight narrowing of Peter's eyes. Looking around, back at the tent, Peter frowned. ]
You see what's going on?
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[Instead of a slide-show of the couple, the images blown up and over the wall featured brightly colored rocks and people being eviscerated by larger, people-shaped blobs. It might have been the paint-job on the mansion, but the people appeared to have a very unusual coloration.
Some feet away from the mansion, a little past the shore and deeper in the ocean, a very large rectangle was rising. As the water sloshed, more and more of the box was revealed to be a large glass tank.
Contained within the cage, there appeared to be a live, sickly-looking whale. With a point of his knife, directed squarely in the middle of Teran's forehead,] He should not be allowed to make such terrible speeches at his own daughter's wedding. [Let alone, you know, anywhere.]
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And he would have voiced his agreement, as well, except his gaze caught on the tank rising from the ocean's surface. His face went slack with surprise, and for a few seconds, he could only stare.
Then, when he finally found his voice, ]
What. The fuck.
[ If Dieguez's fight with Rocket and Gideon had forced this wedding reception off the rails, this presentation was most definitely driving it off a cliff. ]
I'm pretty sure a bad speech is the least of our worries, right now.
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A ball?
Dieguez's eyes narrowed, curious.
The events in the next minute happened far too quickly in succession. The little doggy barked at the crowd, compelling them to step away. With a flourish, Teran tore the sphere's top off and aimed it in the direction of the whale.
The creature was consumed in a bright, purple flash, lasting only a few seconds. Only bits of glass and debris confirmed its existence.
Teran restored the orb's lid and began pointing to the crowd. Terrifyingly, they began to raise their hands and call out increasingly higher numbers.] He is auctioning that thing off to those murderers and terrorists! [Dieguez was uncertain why, but every instinct in him told him to run toward this group. Run and protect Peter. Run and find Galenia, Rocket, and Gideon. Run, before this sordid happening found a way to become even more incomprehensibly terrifying.]
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But, no, Teran's audience seemed to believe him well enough, which was scary in itself, and Peter pulled himself together long enough to turn to Dieguez. ]
We find the others. We figure out what to do from there. [ Which might involve swiping the thing out from Teran's nose, but that was a risk they had to take. Peter might be a selfish person, but he wasn't selfish enough that he could ignore the disaster unfolding before his eyes.
Besides, stealing was kind of Peter's thing. ]
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[And yet...there she was, bidding with the rest. A part of him was certain there had to be a good reason, even if such a thing eluded him at this time. Mere minutes ago, he'd trusted her. Sure, it wasn't to the greatest degree. But, it was there. Another part recalled the promise Quill had made, to placate him, weeks ago.
The last number that escaped her lips brought a hush to the party. A hush that hid daggers. Cautiously, the remaining pair from their group took their places next to Galenia. Rocket stood at her left, with his hands in his pockets. Gideon slouched at her right, with a very uncharacteristically hardened expression on his face.
When Dieguez arrived in their vicinity, would he take a place by her side as well?] Quill! Is she betraying us??! [Surely the Conman would have known; he should have predicted such a thing would take place, after getting to know her. His experience should have allowed him some insight into her personality that the rest were not privy to.
Unless, of course, his affection for her had blinded him.]
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As the bidding continued, though, his brain caught up with the situation, thoughts racing as he tried to make sense of this whole fucking mess. Galenia wouldn't do this. Not for nothing. The few moments they shared had shown him a side of Galenia he'd never seen before. Maybe the drink or the atmosphere had something to do with it, but for a second she seemed – vulnerable. Honest. It had to be a ruse. ]
No, this is perfect. [ He held out a hand without touching Dieguez, as if to keep the man in place. ] Whatever the hell that thing is, we don't want anyone else getting their hands on it. Galenia wins the bid, and we fucking book it, okay?
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As foolish as it sounded, this career shyster's word was one of the few that the former underground fighter trusted (and its contents featured something that he desperately wanted to believe). But, he did have to disagree about something:] We go to join them. Now. If she wins that bid, the three of them will be surrounded by some very powerful sore losers.
[The crowd wasn't so far. Slightly out of earshot. If they ran, now, the two of them would make it to the others within...maybe 5-8 minutes?
Yet, such horrible things had happened in even smaller increments of time. The scene before them gave off the dreaded feeling of a trap, about to spring. Dieguez focused his attention on Galenia, as he began to run.
Within half-a-minute, the bald, eye-patched bodyguard of the Accuser's had stepped out, looking directly at Galenia, and called out a large number of her own. The look she gave, for lack of a better word, was terribly inhuman.
A weapon like this in the hands of this woman and the Accuser seemed unbearable.]
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Dieguez moved much faster than Peter expected, and when he darted off, Peter ended up a few strides behind. The other man reached the edges of the group far before Peter did, just as Galenia's si...ster(?) stepped forward and placed her bid.
In any other situation, Peter would've stepped back, let out a long, impressed whistle, and thought to himself, It must be nice to have that much money to throw around.
In the here and now, though, Peter simply balked, glancing over at Galenia, who seemed just as taken aback as he was – so much so that she had stopped bidding in favor of staring her sister down. With the two of them locked in whatever silent battle they were waging, and with Teran intoning, "Going once, going twice--" Peter did something incredibly stupid.
He forced himself to put on a calm facade and called out some ridiculous bid of his own. ]
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Yeah, probably that.
"We can pay now, Teran," the bodyguard offered, with an odd rhythm to her words and an accent that warped her vowels. "In cash." And, with a snap of her fingers, the tall, rather thin Accuser apologized his way out of the crowd; as he struggled to carry a very hefty suitcase, the man gave his bodyguard a very dirty look that insisted he was supposed to be the boss.
Seeing that pathetic face brought back too many burning memories. Almost automatically, Dieguez lifted up his knife and threw it. The blade spun in the air for a half-second, before it landed in the dead-center of a palm, that had been placed before the Accuser's face at exactly the right time.
The Accuser's bodyguard winced, as she drew her pierced hand close to her face and pulled out the blade.] Shit.
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And then Dieguez was throwing a knife, and that extra didn't work, a Peter watched with equal parts fascination and horror as Nevara, code name Nebula, wrenched the knife from her palm. (Two things crosses his mind, in that moment. The first was, Badass. The second one was, Oh. Shit.)
After that, Nevara launched the knife back in Dieguez's direction, but halfway through its flight, Galenia deflected it with her own blade. The knife buried itself blade first in the sand, and Galenia spared no time in turning, just as Nevara threw herself at her former sister.
The party, such as it was, fell into chaos, after that, with guards and lackeys moving in to protect their charges and make a giant mess of things. It reminded Peter more than a little of a bar fight, all directionless violence and chaos, but he ignored it as best he could, spotting Teran still standing on his little makeshift stage, surveying the brawl. The man seemed unperturbed by the turn of events – even looked slightly amused – and, most importantly, held the orb loosely at his side.
Welp, Peter thought. When opportunity knocks, right? ]
Dieguez! Rocket! [ He shouted it over the cacophony – the two closest team members he could see – unsure if his companions would be able to hear him. He hoped they would, and he added helpfully, as he started weaving his way through the throng, ] I'm gonna do something really stupid.