[ Peter darts out of cover at the same moment, and when Gamora’s shots send their enemies scrambling, Peter manages to take one out with a few well-aimed blasts. It’s not the guy with the cannon, which Peter was hoping for, but that guy seems to have hunkered down, troubleshooting the weapon. The others regroup, however, and another hail of gunfire signals Peter’s hasty retreat back to their cover. ]
I can draw their fire?
[ Playing bait was a common job for him, back with the Ravagers. ]
[ Gamora isn't immediately certain how much she approves of this plan, but— at least it's a plan. She gives short, frustrated noise in the back of her throat (not disagreeing, but not necessarily enthusiastic), and she cocks the plasma rifle, shouldering it with a sharp nod. ]
Keep your head down and do not get shot.
[ They've been fortunate enough to avoid any serious gunshot wounds lately, but that doesn't mean they're due for more. ]
You act like I'm trying to get shot on the regular.
[ In reality, he's never trying. It just happens.
All the same, he moves to the edge of their cover, both guns ready. Their enemies continue to pepper the metal shipping crate, and judging by how long it's been going, Peter has to figure they're nearing the ends of their clips.
He looks to Gamora, counting down from three, and when he reaches one, he surges out of cover, firing as he goes. The other men shout as Peter darts out, redirecting their attention to him, but he's just ahead of them, keeping out of the line of fire. ]
[ In circumstances far less dire, Gamora might take the moment to inform Peter that he's practically a magnet when it comes to bullets, but focusing on her shots is far more crucial than arguing with him.
(For now.)
With her rifle at the ready, she waits bare seconds after Peter darts out from behind the shipping crate, using their enemies' split attention to sight a first, second, and third gunner. After the three blasts claim their targets, Gamora moves quickly outside of her own cover to follow after Peter. The constant hail of bullets has subsided, and the few still left have taken cover of their own – though Gamora fires precisely at their hiding spots to remind them that she knows where they ended up.
She's quick to duck behind another crate, closer to Peter but a few paces away.
She glances over to him as she plasters her back against her cover, taking a moment to check over her own rifle. ]
Four left – as long as they don't call in reinforcements. Though at this point, I'm not convinced their aim is worth anything.
When Peter finds his way to new cover, he pops up briefly, laying down a bit of cover fire as Gamora makes her way over. Once Gamora is safely behind something, Peter ducks back down, catching his breath.
At Gamora's words, he scowls behind his mask. ]
C'mon, man. Do you seriously need to tempt fate like that? Saying that kinda shit is just inviting bad luck.
[ Though some days it seems that they make it through whatever the galaxy tosses at them by sheer random chance alone. The odds are never in their favor, and yet, somehow, they emerge victorious more often than they probably should.
That feels particularly apt after their most recent run-in with N'Calo.
Gamora takes the opportunity to carefully peer around her cover—
—only to be greeted by another blast from the plasma cannon.
She leans immediately back around in time to avoid catching her hair in the shot, keeping her head down with a low growl. ]
If we deal with the plasma cannon next, the others should be easy enough to pick off. We can't give him the opportunity to keep firing.
[ She jerks her chin in the direction ahead of them, indicating the next ideal piece of cover. ]
If you can—
[ She stops short as her rifle whirrs in protest when she cocks the hammer, and she looks immediately down to the display sight. Another whining sound, a catch, and then a bright red error shows across the sight's holo screen.
Just what they need.
She reflexively ducks again with another blast of the plasma cannon, this time taking a corner of her cover with it. This isn't the right location to waste time, and Gamora discards the rifle, reaching for Godslayer instead. ]
Change of plan. I'll draw their fire, you aim for him as soon as you get a clear shot.
Maybe if we would get better guns, I wouldn't have to use it.
[ Fortunately, Gamora doesn't need a gun to be deadly; they just usually have more blasting power on hand, but with only the two of them to provide ranged cover fire, it makes darting into the battlefield with so many more guns unappealing.
But they've narrowed it down significantly, so Gamora is much more confident that throwing herself into the fray will be – if not safer – manageable.
(But, then again, bringing a knife to a gunfight isn't unfamiliar to her in the slightest.)
She lifts herself into position, muscles coiled, ready to spring, and as she extends her arm and Godslayer in one fluid motion, she meets the red eyes of Peter's mask.
Three... two... one...
— And she's off.
She throws herself out of their cover, quick enough that the remaining gunners don't immediately realize she's moved into the open. That brief reprieve doesn't last long, but it's still nearly laughable how they continue to miss her; however, poor aim matched against Gamora's enhanced speed does not make for a terribly fair fight. ]
[ It's lucky as hell that they're facing down a bunch of thugs, he thinks. Peter knows Gamora can handle herself, knows all too well how lethal she can be, and he has confidence she'll see this through.
As she's distracting them, Peter waits for his moment, waits for the asshole with the plasma cannon to move out of cover to make his shot. The cannon whirs to life, inner mechanisms spinning as the shot charges, glowing an angry red, and Peter fires. A blast of electricity to make him seize; a blast of sparking plasma at the asshole's hands to make him drop the weapon. A final shot of both straight into his head to drop him.
After that, it's a matter of picking off the rest. Peter moves out of cover, moving forward to help with the couple of dickwads remaining. ]
[ As much as Gamora may concern herself with Peter's well-being, she knows full well that he can handle himself in a fight. He's admirably capable, which is why when it comes to taking down the goon with the cannon, she doesn't even glance back to check on Peter. Instead, she barrels forward, drawing the attention of the gunmen, and by the time they realize what's happening, the cannon is out of commission and Gamora is rounding on them with Godslayer.
She reaches two of them, using her blade to spear a man through his sternum, and in the same motion, spinning the body towards the other thug to send it flying off of her sword and into his partner. They both hit the ground in a pool of blood, and though the second gunner groans under the weight of the first (now surely dead) man, Gamora just deals a swift kick to the side of his head.
Out like a light.
(Potentially also dead, though that bothers her little.)
The last thug standing has taken to firing wildly around the area, desperation making his shots spread wide and aimless – simply trying to hit anything possible to avoid his own inevitable fate. Though not particularly effective, Gamora still ducks behind cover to avoid a spray of bullets. ]
[ Peter dashes behind cover as the bullets fly. There's a lot to be said for the spray and pray technique. God knows Peter's utilized it more than a few times over the course of his outlaw career, and the lack of predictability can make it a formidable tactic.
It also has the nasty habit of running the clip dry far faster than you expect.
The gun finally clicks empty, and the thug continues to pull the trigger, frantic and panicked. Peter stands, then, head tilted a little sympathetically. ]
This is gonna hurt.
[ And he shoots the guy with a bolt of electricity. The man seizes, collapsing to the ground. When he stills, Peter fires again – just to make sure. After that, he scans the area, guns still raised in case anyone means to surprise them. ]
[ It's the emptying of the clip that gets Gamora to rise from behind her cover, Godslayer still at the ready as she watches Peter advance on the now-unarmed thug. She barely even blinks when he goes down, and she finally steps into the open properly when Peter gives the all-clear.
She's still on her guard, ready and waiting for any surprises that may launch themselves out of the darkness, but given the almost painful quiet of the warehouse before, she isn't alarmed by the emptiness now.
A flick of her wrist, and Godslayer retracts so she can attach it to the hilt at her hip. ]
That was more manpower than we were led to believe.
[ Because that fight should have been much simpler, and certainly not with the kind of artillery they had on hand. ]
[ He says it on a grumble, holstering one gun but keeping the other in hand. It seems to be their lot in life, getting botched information – a dozen men when there are three times as many. A complicated network of booby traps, when there's only one trip wire and a swinging pendulum.
By now, Peter's stopped being so surprised by it. ]
I imagine he has either abandoned the area or decided to hole up with his merchandise.
[ And the way she says it is particularly derisive. Their target is clearly a coward, no matter where he's ended up, and given what he's been peddling, Gamora won't be sorry to see him dealt with.
She jerks her chin towards the end of the warehouse – the location for the dealer's storeroom, according to their intel. ]
We can press forward, and the others can cover the back exit.
[ Peter offers a quick nod, providing direction to the others through their shared channel. He adds in some griping for flavor, telling the others to expect resistance.
(Specifically, he tells the others to "stay frosty."
This has predictable results.)
At length, Peter sighs once he's extracted himself from the conversation, and he heads toward the back rooms. ]
Wanna make a bet on how many guys are waiting for us back there?
[ Gamora is (un)fortunate enough to get to listen to the reaction to Peter's instructions, and while she also has no idea what he means by "stay frosty," she at least knows this isn't the time to get him to explain another Terran expression that makes nearly no sense.
She falls into step with Peter towards the back of the building, her hand still resting on Godslayer, ready to draw at a moment's notice (since she's now decidedly lacking in anything ranged). A brief flick of her eyes to him, then forward to the door awaiting them. ]
The rooms themselves are small, including where he has stored his product, so I would not expect more than six. Nine, if they had the sense to barricade more reinforcements.
[ There are two ways in: a front entrance leading to the storerooms themselves, and a back exit that should lead down a short hall and out of the warehouse. If their target tries to escape out the back, the other Guardians should be waiting; if he holds his ground, she and Peter can deal with him in the storeroom itself – and whatever goons he may still have at his disposal. ]
Do you actually want to bet right now?
[ She's clearly skeptical, more than actually interested in a wager. ]
[ Not really, though. He was half-prepared to wager a few days' of chores on "somewhere between six and eight," but there's no point if they're both betting on the same thing. ]
[ She casts him one last, short glance (something surely disbelieving, because she wouldn't have put it past him to put something on the line just because he could), but with the door in front of them, ready and waiting, she's willing to focus on the important matter at hand.
Such as bursting in on their target's last available hiding place.
A nod in the affirmative, and then Gamora moves up to the door itself, a hand on the panel beside it. She waits, listening intently for a moment, and through the thick metal, she can hear scuffling and hushed voices (panicked tones, too, and that's somewhat gratifying). They're definitely in there, and with a cursory count of who's speaking, she can pick out five separate people – though she realizes that doesn't mean there aren't more. It seems to be a last minute scramble to get into position, though they still won't have the time to pull themselves together before Gamora is hitting the panel to open the door, and with all the speed and finesse she possesses, she darts inside the room into the first set of wholly disorganized criminals.
Catching them off guard proves to be in their favor, because the armed men are caught in the middle of shouting disjointed warnings and orders at each other, and Gamora already has Godslayer drawn and a swift strike to a thug's temple with the grip of the blade sends him to the floor in a motionless heap.
It's only after one body hits the floor that the shooting starts.
Gamora can't let them pin her down, and she knows that, so it quickly becomes a matter of flushing them out into the open to give Peter easier access. Around them in the storeroom, there are crates piled high with product, tables stacked with boxes and phials, some stashed but otherwise practically on display.
The man really couldn't have given them a better demonstration of guilt than if he'd written it in neon on the wall. ]
[ The shitty thing about these places is that everything is just the slightest bit volatile, that a poorly placed shot is liable to send the whole place up in flames. It's just as well that Gamora flushes some of the men out, panicked and desperate to get out of range of her sword.
Out of the frying pan, Peter thinks as he shoots down a lackey trying to stumble away from that flashing blade, into the fire.
The two of them make a good team; Peter will never have Gamora's speed or strength, but he makes up for that in quick reflexes and resourcefulness. Anything's a weapon, if you use it right, which is why when a guy rushes at Peter, Peter responds by snatching up an empty test tube rack and slamming it into his face. ]
[ It all proves to be the usual song-and-dance: incompetent thugs who can barely shoot to save their lives, and it becomes a matter of picking them off, one by one.
Their leader and the man they've come for (Cryon, she recalls from the Nova Reports) stays at the back, and Gamora catches flashes of him in between skewering his men. She can see the rising panic on his face, the way his eyes dart towards the exit, but with yet another man down, Gamora plants herself squarely between Cryon and his way out. A smirk spreads across her lips, and the dealer raises his gun to fire, only to be met with the knife from Godslayer's hilt, catching on the back of his hand and forcing him to drop his weapon with a yell. ]
D-Don't— don't come any closer!
[ Despite the tremor in his voice, he still tries to glare at her, looking between Gamora and Peter and backing steadily away.
Gamora, of course, advances instead. ]
I said stay back!
[ And Cryon kicks off the lid of one of the nearby crates, revealing a pile of glittering Dust that shimmers in the low light. He plunges his hand inside, pulling out a fistful of the drug, and that finally stops Gamora short. From the intel they'd been given, the last thing they want anyone getting their hands on is that mess of a enhancer, and Gamora's eyes flick uncertainly over to Peter. ]
Dust was volatile shit. Sure, it made the user invulnerable and stronger than Hercules, but it also left a guy wrung out and nauseated – and left them with a fifty-fifty shot of craving another fix. There were a couple of Ravagers who got hooked on the stuff that Peter remembers; they weren't Ravagers for very long, either because their addiction got to be too much and forced Yondu to kick them out, or because they chased that high too often and overdosed on the junk.
The successful dealers never touched the stuff, but it seems Cryon is desperate enough to risk it. And if he does, this day is going to get a whole lot worse for Peter and Gamora.
Peter hits the trigger on his mask, holstering both guns. He puts up both hands as he steps forward. ]
Hey, dude. [ Slowly, insistently, but not unkindly. ] Put that stuff down. You know you don't wanna use it.
[ Cryon backs away when Peter walks towards him, raising that fistful of Dust. ]
There's no way I'm getting out of this, and you fucking know it. I'm not just gonna let you haul me off to the Nova Corps o-or blow my damn brains out!
I'm outta options, you bastards.
[ He spits the words with all the venom he can muster, and before Gamora can close the distance between them and grab his wrist, Cryon lifts the Dust to his face and just inhales.
He falls back a few steps with a shout of surprise (evidently, he didn't expect the rush of sensation that accompanies the drug), and he shakes as his breathing picks up.
Gamora curses shortly, and in an effort to overwhelm Cryon before the drug can take effect, she darts forward with her sword drawn. Apparently (and unfortunately for them), Dust works monumentally faster than she thought it would, and in the time it takes her to rush the dealer, all he has to do is swing his arm to send her flying across the room.
She crashes into a stack of crates, though as they crumple and collapse around her, they seem to be mercifully empty – but that means she finds herself half-buried under the weight of them as a few cave in around her shoulders on impact. They break open, but the worst they seem to be carrying is broken glass, shards of which she knows will work themselves back out of her skin, given the shallowness of the contusions she's vividly aware of. No Dust spills out around her, but as she tries to pry herself away from the glass and crates, there's some— strange residue on the glass, but it's light, barely worth her notice, and she simply brushes it aside because she doesn't have time to concern herself with Cryon's used phials.
She especially doesn't have time because Cryon barrels towards Peter with a roar of rage, intent on putting the Terran through any walls he has to in order to get to his exit. The other Guardians are just outside the hall leading out of the warehouse, but Cryon, in his Dust-fueled haze, seems to think of nothing but getting out of the building. ]
[ Peter's in the middle of shouting a useless, "Don't— no, stop!" just as Cryon takes the hit.
The next thing that's out of Peter's mouth is a forlorn, Shit.
Gamora steps forward before Peter can fire off a good shot, and just as quickly, she's sent flying into crates. Peter shouts her name, takes a few running steps toward her, when noise catches his attention.
Pounding footsteps, more accurately. Cryon's pounding footstep. Another curse escapes Peter's lips as he frantically hits the trigger for his helmet, tries to dodge out of the way, only he's not quick enough. Cryon slams into him, and they crash through the (shockingly flimsy, Peter distantly muses) wall. Masonry falls around them as Cryon drives a dazed Peter to the ground. Peter groans, blinking away stars. Cryon seems to get his bearings much faster, scrambling to his feet—
And he finds himself staring down the barrel of an oversized gun.
Rocket grins a sharp smile, and Drax stands behind him, both knives at the ready. Kraglin and Mantis, with Groot on her shoulder, stand a few paces further back, weapons raised.
Rocket's rifle whirs to life, charging up a shot. ]
Nice of you to drop by.
[ Cryon snarls at them all, the drug coursing through his system. He leaps at Rocket, absorbing the first shot, then the second, and Rocket sighs out, Oh, hell— as Cryon bats him to one side.
Peter only manages to push himself onto all fours, once Cryon starts grappling with Drax.
He chokes out, ] Five minutes.
[ Which is about how long they need to occupy Cryon before the drug starts to fade.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I can draw their fire?
[ Playing bait was a common job for him, back with the Ravagers. ]
You can pick them off.
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Keep your head down and do not get shot.
[ They've been fortunate enough to avoid any serious gunshot wounds lately, but that doesn't mean they're due for more. ]
On your count.
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[ In reality, he's never trying. It just happens.
All the same, he moves to the edge of their cover, both guns ready. Their enemies continue to pepper the metal shipping crate, and judging by how long it's been going, Peter has to figure they're nearing the ends of their clips.
He looks to Gamora, counting down from three, and when he reaches one, he surges out of cover, firing as he goes. The other men shout as Peter darts out, redirecting their attention to him, but he's just ahead of them, keeping out of the line of fire. ]
no subject
(For now.)
With her rifle at the ready, she waits bare seconds after Peter darts out from behind the shipping crate, using their enemies' split attention to sight a first, second, and third gunner. After the three blasts claim their targets, Gamora moves quickly outside of her own cover to follow after Peter. The constant hail of bullets has subsided, and the few still left have taken cover of their own – though Gamora fires precisely at their hiding spots to remind them that she knows where they ended up.
She's quick to duck behind another crate, closer to Peter but a few paces away.
She glances over to him as she plasters her back against her cover, taking a moment to check over her own rifle. ]
Four left – as long as they don't call in reinforcements. Though at this point, I'm not convinced their aim is worth anything.
no subject
When Peter finds his way to new cover, he pops up briefly, laying down a bit of cover fire as Gamora makes her way over. Once Gamora is safely behind something, Peter ducks back down, catching his breath.
At Gamora's words, he scowls behind his mask. ]
C'mon, man. Do you seriously need to tempt fate like that? Saying that kinda shit is just inviting bad luck.
no subject
[ Though some days it seems that they make it through whatever the galaxy tosses at them by sheer random chance alone. The odds are never in their favor, and yet, somehow, they emerge victorious more often than they probably should.
That feels particularly apt after their most recent run-in with N'Calo.
Gamora takes the opportunity to carefully peer around her cover—
—only to be greeted by another blast from the plasma cannon.
She leans immediately back around in time to avoid catching her hair in the shot, keeping her head down with a low growl. ]
If we deal with the plasma cannon next, the others should be easy enough to pick off. We can't give him the opportunity to keep firing.
no subject
I don't rely on it. It just helps.
[ The fwoom of the cannon catches Peter's attention, and curses when Gamora jerks away from the blast. ]
Same deal? Draw his fire, give you the chance to pick him off?
no subject
Try making it to that wall there.
[ She jerks her chin in the direction ahead of them, indicating the next ideal piece of cover. ]
If you can—
[ She stops short as her rifle whirrs in protest when she cocks the hammer, and she looks immediately down to the display sight. Another whining sound, a catch, and then a bright red error shows across the sight's holo screen.
Just what they need.
She reflexively ducks again with another blast of the plasma cannon, this time taking a corner of her cover with it. This isn't the right location to waste time, and Gamora discards the rifle, reaching for Godslayer instead. ]
Change of plan. I'll draw their fire, you aim for him as soon as you get a clear shot.
no subject
He knows that sound, and he glances over at her gun, at the glow of red on the screen, and Peter heaves out a sigh. ]
You seriously need to stop using that model. I keep telling you they jam any chance they get.
[ But that's the only complaint he offers, and he nods again, maneuvering himself into a better position to fire. ]
Ready when you are.
no subject
[ Fortunately, Gamora doesn't need a gun to be deadly; they just usually have more blasting power on hand, but with only the two of them to provide ranged cover fire, it makes darting into the battlefield with so many more guns unappealing.
But they've narrowed it down significantly, so Gamora is much more confident that throwing herself into the fray will be – if not safer – manageable.
(But, then again, bringing a knife to a gunfight isn't unfamiliar to her in the slightest.)
She lifts herself into position, muscles coiled, ready to spring, and as she extends her arm and Godslayer in one fluid motion, she meets the red eyes of Peter's mask.
Three... two... one...
— And she's off.
She throws herself out of their cover, quick enough that the remaining gunners don't immediately realize she's moved into the open. That brief reprieve doesn't last long, but it's still nearly laughable how they continue to miss her; however, poor aim matched against Gamora's enhanced speed does not make for a terribly fair fight. ]
no subject
As she's distracting them, Peter waits for his moment, waits for the asshole with the plasma cannon to move out of cover to make his shot. The cannon whirs to life, inner mechanisms spinning as the shot charges, glowing an angry red, and Peter fires. A blast of electricity to make him seize; a blast of sparking plasma at the asshole's hands to make him drop the weapon. A final shot of both straight into his head to drop him.
After that, it's a matter of picking off the rest. Peter moves out of cover, moving forward to help with the couple of dickwads remaining. ]
no subject
She reaches two of them, using her blade to spear a man through his sternum, and in the same motion, spinning the body towards the other thug to send it flying off of her sword and into his partner. They both hit the ground in a pool of blood, and though the second gunner groans under the weight of the first (now surely dead) man, Gamora just deals a swift kick to the side of his head.
Out like a light.
(Potentially also dead, though that bothers her little.)
The last thug standing has taken to firing wildly around the area, desperation making his shots spread wide and aimless – simply trying to hit anything possible to avoid his own inevitable fate. Though not particularly effective, Gamora still ducks behind cover to avoid a spray of bullets. ]
no subject
It also has the nasty habit of running the clip dry far faster than you expect.
The gun finally clicks empty, and the thug continues to pull the trigger, frantic and panicked. Peter stands, then, head tilted a little sympathetically. ]
This is gonna hurt.
[ And he shoots the guy with a bolt of electricity. The man seizes, collapsing to the ground. When he stills, Peter fires again – just to make sure. After that, he scans the area, guns still raised in case anyone means to surprise them. ]
Think we're in the clear.
no subject
She's still on her guard, ready and waiting for any surprises that may launch themselves out of the darkness, but given the almost painful quiet of the warehouse before, she isn't alarmed by the emptiness now.
A flick of her wrist, and Godslayer retracts so she can attach it to the hilt at her hip. ]
That was more manpower than we were led to believe.
[ Because that fight should have been much simpler, and certainly not with the kind of artillery they had on hand. ]
no subject
[ He says it on a grumble, holstering one gun but keeping the other in hand. It seems to be their lot in life, getting botched information – a dozen men when there are three times as many. A complicated network of booby traps, when there's only one trip wire and a swinging pendulum.
By now, Peter's stopped being so surprised by it. ]
Haven't even seen our guy yet.
no subject
[ And the way she says it is particularly derisive. Their target is clearly a coward, no matter where he's ended up, and given what he's been peddling, Gamora won't be sorry to see him dealt with.
She jerks her chin towards the end of the warehouse – the location for the dealer's storeroom, according to their intel. ]
We can press forward, and the others can cover the back exit.
no subject
(Specifically, he tells the others to "stay frosty."
This has predictable results.)
At length, Peter sighs once he's extracted himself from the conversation, and he heads toward the back rooms. ]
Wanna make a bet on how many guys are waiting for us back there?
no subject
She falls into step with Peter towards the back of the building, her hand still resting on Godslayer, ready to draw at a moment's notice (since she's now decidedly lacking in anything ranged). A brief flick of her eyes to him, then forward to the door awaiting them. ]
The rooms themselves are small, including where he has stored his product, so I would not expect more than six. Nine, if they had the sense to barricade more reinforcements.
[ There are two ways in: a front entrance leading to the storerooms themselves, and a back exit that should lead down a short hall and out of the warehouse. If their target tries to escape out the back, the other Guardians should be waiting; if he holds his ground, she and Peter can deal with him in the storeroom itself – and whatever goons he may still have at his disposal. ]
Do you actually want to bet right now?
[ She's clearly skeptical, more than actually interested in a wager. ]
no subject
Just a phrase.
[ Not really, though. He was half-prepared to wager a few days' of chores on "somewhere between six and eight," but there's no point if they're both betting on the same thing. ]
Take point. I'll cover you.
no subject
Such as bursting in on their target's last available hiding place.
A nod in the affirmative, and then Gamora moves up to the door itself, a hand on the panel beside it. She waits, listening intently for a moment, and through the thick metal, she can hear scuffling and hushed voices (panicked tones, too, and that's somewhat gratifying). They're definitely in there, and with a cursory count of who's speaking, she can pick out five separate people – though she realizes that doesn't mean there aren't more. It seems to be a last minute scramble to get into position, though they still won't have the time to pull themselves together before Gamora is hitting the panel to open the door, and with all the speed and finesse she possesses, she darts inside the room into the first set of wholly disorganized criminals.
Catching them off guard proves to be in their favor, because the armed men are caught in the middle of shouting disjointed warnings and orders at each other, and Gamora already has Godslayer drawn and a swift strike to a thug's temple with the grip of the blade sends him to the floor in a motionless heap.
It's only after one body hits the floor that the shooting starts.
Gamora can't let them pin her down, and she knows that, so it quickly becomes a matter of flushing them out into the open to give Peter easier access. Around them in the storeroom, there are crates piled high with product, tables stacked with boxes and phials, some stashed but otherwise practically on display.
The man really couldn't have given them a better demonstration of guilt than if he'd written it in neon on the wall. ]
no subject
Out of the frying pan, Peter thinks as he shoots down a lackey trying to stumble away from that flashing blade, into the fire.
The two of them make a good team; Peter will never have Gamora's speed or strength, but he makes up for that in quick reflexes and resourcefulness. Anything's a weapon, if you use it right, which is why when a guy rushes at Peter, Peter responds by snatching up an empty test tube rack and slamming it into his face. ]
no subject
Their leader and the man they've come for (Cryon, she recalls from the Nova Reports) stays at the back, and Gamora catches flashes of him in between skewering his men. She can see the rising panic on his face, the way his eyes dart towards the exit, but with yet another man down, Gamora plants herself squarely between Cryon and his way out. A smirk spreads across her lips, and the dealer raises his gun to fire, only to be met with the knife from Godslayer's hilt, catching on the back of his hand and forcing him to drop his weapon with a yell. ]
D-Don't— don't come any closer!
[ Despite the tremor in his voice, he still tries to glare at her, looking between Gamora and Peter and backing steadily away.
Gamora, of course, advances instead. ]
I said stay back!
[ And Cryon kicks off the lid of one of the nearby crates, revealing a pile of glittering Dust that shimmers in the low light. He plunges his hand inside, pulling out a fistful of the drug, and that finally stops Gamora short. From the intel they'd been given, the last thing they want anyone getting their hands on is that mess of a enhancer, and Gamora's eyes flick uncertainly over to Peter. ]
no subject
Dust was volatile shit. Sure, it made the user invulnerable and stronger than Hercules, but it also left a guy wrung out and nauseated – and left them with a fifty-fifty shot of craving another fix. There were a couple of Ravagers who got hooked on the stuff that Peter remembers; they weren't Ravagers for very long, either because their addiction got to be too much and forced Yondu to kick them out, or because they chased that high too often and overdosed on the junk.
The successful dealers never touched the stuff, but it seems Cryon is desperate enough to risk it. And if he does, this day is going to get a whole lot worse for Peter and Gamora.
Peter hits the trigger on his mask, holstering both guns. He puts up both hands as he steps forward. ]
Hey, dude. [ Slowly, insistently, but not unkindly. ] Put that stuff down. You know you don't wanna use it.
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[ Cryon backs away when Peter walks towards him, raising that fistful of Dust. ]
There's no way I'm getting out of this, and you fucking know it. I'm not just gonna let you haul me off to the Nova Corps o-or blow my damn brains out!
I'm outta options, you bastards.
[ He spits the words with all the venom he can muster, and before Gamora can close the distance between them and grab his wrist, Cryon lifts the Dust to his face and just inhales.
He falls back a few steps with a shout of surprise (evidently, he didn't expect the rush of sensation that accompanies the drug), and he shakes as his breathing picks up.
Gamora curses shortly, and in an effort to overwhelm Cryon before the drug can take effect, she darts forward with her sword drawn. Apparently (and unfortunately for them), Dust works monumentally faster than she thought it would, and in the time it takes her to rush the dealer, all he has to do is swing his arm to send her flying across the room.
She crashes into a stack of crates, though as they crumple and collapse around her, they seem to be mercifully empty – but that means she finds herself half-buried under the weight of them as a few cave in around her shoulders on impact. They break open, but the worst they seem to be carrying is broken glass, shards of which she knows will work themselves back out of her skin, given the shallowness of the contusions she's vividly aware of. No Dust spills out around her, but as she tries to pry herself away from the glass and crates, there's some— strange residue on the glass, but it's light, barely worth her notice, and she simply brushes it aside because she doesn't have time to concern herself with Cryon's used phials.
She especially doesn't have time because Cryon barrels towards Peter with a roar of rage, intent on putting the Terran through any walls he has to in order to get to his exit. The other Guardians are just outside the hall leading out of the warehouse, but Cryon, in his Dust-fueled haze, seems to think of nothing but getting out of the building. ]
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The next thing that's out of Peter's mouth is a forlorn, Shit.
Gamora steps forward before Peter can fire off a good shot, and just as quickly, she's sent flying into crates. Peter shouts her name, takes a few running steps toward her, when noise catches his attention.
Pounding footsteps, more accurately. Cryon's pounding footstep. Another curse escapes Peter's lips as he frantically hits the trigger for his helmet, tries to dodge out of the way, only he's not quick enough. Cryon slams into him, and they crash through the (shockingly flimsy, Peter distantly muses) wall. Masonry falls around them as Cryon drives a dazed Peter to the ground. Peter groans, blinking away stars. Cryon seems to get his bearings much faster, scrambling to his feet—
And he finds himself staring down the barrel of an oversized gun.
Rocket grins a sharp smile, and Drax stands behind him, both knives at the ready. Kraglin and Mantis, with Groot on her shoulder, stand a few paces further back, weapons raised.
Rocket's rifle whirs to life, charging up a shot. ]
Nice of you to drop by.
[ Cryon snarls at them all, the drug coursing through his system. He leaps at Rocket, absorbing the first shot, then the second, and Rocket sighs out, Oh, hell— as Cryon bats him to one side.
Peter only manages to push himself onto all fours, once Cryon starts grappling with Drax.
He chokes out, ] Five minutes.
[ Which is about how long they need to occupy Cryon before the drug starts to fade.
Piece of cake, right? ]
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what the fuck i never got this notif....
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