open post, vol. 2

[nostalgiabomb]

( x )

( VOL. 1 )

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[godslay]

[ Gamora doesn't jolt when the bearing slides into place, but she straightens slightly, the lights in her chest flashing and changing pattern. ]

Yes.

[ A quick, short answer.

Gamora rolls her shoulder, turns her chin one direction then the next. ]

Do you see the lines between the vertebrae? The solid wires.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He glances up at her, worried, before redirecting his attention to the opening again. ]

Yeah. I think I see it. What do you need me to do?

[godslay]

Follow them higher, about two inches up. That controls my sensory reception.

[ Her pain response, essentially. ]

My system disconnects the input when enough damage is done, so you have to unplug the wires from the port and plug them back in again.

[nostalgiabomb]

So, what, like a system restart?

[ He pauses, then, ]

You sure you wanna do this now? 'Cause you're gonna start feeling the damage after this, right?

[godslay]

[ She nods. ]

I have to, or my body won't initiate the regeneration of the damaged organic tissue.

[ Basically: her skin won't grow back, otherwise. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

Oh.

[ Yeah, okay, that's important.

He lets out a breath before unplugging the wires, as she asked. Before he reconnects them, though, he glances up to catch her gaze. ]

You ready?

[godslay]

[ Strange, she finds herself thinking, that he's actually giving her consideration, that he cares about her "pain."

Something that still holds true in the future.

Peter's always paid her more deference than others when considering her to be more than a machine.

Again, Gamora offers a short nod. ]

Do it.

[nostalgiabomb]

On three, then.

[ Just to give her time to brace herself.

He counts off the numbers in an even rhythm, and once he reaches "three," he carefully reinserts the wires. ]

[godslay]

[ Gamora readies herself as much as she can, but the sudden initiation of her nerves still hits her like a runaway train. Her system screeches with sudden sensation, and she feels like she's being ripped apart—

All things considered, her reaction is restrained. She inhales sharply, tensing all over, but she doesn't curl in on herself or yank away from Peter. She forces herself to breathe through the discomfort – or allowing her system to filter through the overwhelming rush of sensory data; whichever is more appropriate for an android.

Gamora speaks levelly, but through a clenched jaw. ]

I think— that's everything.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Maybe Gamora doesn't jerk away, but Peter is quick to pull back, lifting both hands in an unthreatening gesture.

Largely unnecessary, it seems, since Gamora seems to be in control – and subdued as it is, Peter can still tell she must be in pain. ]

You okay?

[godslay]

[ Gamora nods again, carefully controlled. ]

Yes.

[ Her systems are reaching normal levels again, so that's probably a fair definition of "okay," by human standards.

A beat of hesitation as she draws a few more slow breaths, and then, ]

Thank you.

[nostalgiabomb]

Yeah, well. You wouldn't've gotten hurt if you weren't getting me out of the line of fire, so.

[ He lifts a shoulder in a small shrug. ]

Thank you, too.

[godslay]

That is what I'm here for.

[ Saving humanity and many other races from assimilation depended on Peter's survival.

Otherwise, they might as well surrender to the Phalanx now and get it over with.

Gamora leans back against the table, letting herself slowly unwind. Metal slides back to cover what would be her ribs, and she rests her fingertips over the newly-sensitive midsection. It throbs – in her perception of it – but she knows that now, she'll be able to regrow the tissue that usually gives her the passable appearance of a living being.

She'll be back to normal soon. ]

All that matters is that we have the gun. We should be able to destroy Korath, now.

[nostalgiabomb]

Guess so.

[ He slumps back in his seat, rubbing at his eyes. ]

But Contraxia was where we were setting up to do it, right? We're gonna have to come up with a new plan of attack.

[godslay]

Yes, but we have the advantage of choosing our battlefield.

[ Gamora goes to where she abandoned her vest, frowning down at the scorched hole.

Well, that's a problem. ]

Korath is probably tracking your DNA signature, which means we can lead him somewhere we won't have to worry over collateral damage.

[ Gamora bunches up the vest, dropping it onto the table dismissively. ]

Anywhere we can establish a position that won't give him an edge.

[nostalgiabomb]

Wait, he's probably what?

[ That gets his attention, and he immediately sits up, gawking at her. ]

Are you serious? I thought he was just, I dunno. Playing detective and making educated guesses.

[godslay]

It's likelier he has a record of your DNA, and he's scanning for it, specifically. The Phalanx collected a sample in the future, and while they can't track you in motion, they can set up wide search parameters to narrow down your location.

So any time you land, he can potentially track your signature. That's probably how he found us so quickly on Contraxia.

[ Gamora tugs at the frayed fabric of her undershirt. ]

Do you have something I can wear?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He doesn't say it aloud, but Peter is currently wearing an expression that says, Holy fuck.

It takes a few seconds for him to register her question, but at length, he silently nods, getting to his feet and heading over to an old, worn shirt left carelessly draped over a crate close to the bunk. The lettering and design – an advertisement for a canoe rental place – is faded after 26 years, but still legible.

He holds it out to her. ]

This should probably fit you.

[godslay]

[ Gamora accepts the shirt, giving it a curious onceover. ]

Have you had this since you were a child?

[ It doesn't hurt that Gamora is naturally lithe, but this still looks old. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

Yeah.

[ He looks a little preoccupied, running a hand through his hair, but he glances over at her. ]

It's survived this long. It'll be fine.

[godslay]

[ Gamora isn't going to complain, not when her options are so limited. She steps around Peter, putting some distance between them as she turns her back to tug on the new shirt. ]

What's concerning you?

[ He's not subtle, but she's had time to study Peter's reactions – years in the future – to recognize his tells, even as an android. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

Are you kidding?

[ He pauses as she puts space between them – and if he waits half of a breath before turning away, he'll blame it on his own distraction.

But turn he does, offering her that bare bit of privacy, before dragging a hand down his face. ]

There's eventually gonna be some giant, evil A.I. that wants to assimilate the universe, and they want me dead. So they zap an agent back through time, who's practically unkillable and unstoppable. And the only way I'm safe from him is if I'm flying through space.

And I've got the Ravagers on my tail. And I've got a planet-destroying artifact in my bag.

But even putting all that aside, let's say we manage to chuck Korath off a cliff, I make peace with Yondu, and manage to offload the Orb. Even if I survive all of this, my reward is, what? My life and a robot-apocalypse in, like, less than a decade.

So maybe I'm starting to freak out.

[godslay]

[ Gamora tugs off her undershirt as she listens to Peter, dropping the practically-shredded bit of fabric to the side. She pulls on the shirt Peter offered her, and even though the fit is a little odd, it still serves its purpose.

She turns back to Peter, gathering her hair and pulling it over her shoulder to deal with the hectic curls – a style courtesy of being thrown through the air. ]

A lot has been dropped on your shoulders.

[ It's an empathetic statement as much as it is agreeing with his assessment of reality. ]

And it's not often people have a window into their future. But—

[ She stops short, frowning as she seems to reevaluate her thoughts. ]

It isn't set in stone.

[nostalgiabomb]

Yeah, it's not.

[ And the words are cast dryly. ]

I mean, Korath could blast my head off. That'd be a pretty drastic difference.

[godslay]

I meant that the Phalanx control of the galaxy isn't guaranteed. We could try to do something about it in this time, instead of only trying to keep you alive.

[ Be a big damn hero. ]