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.
[ A lot can happen in five minutes – a fact they all seem to forget as Drax wrestles Cryon to the ground. They need to keep him contained, keep him from fleeing the scene, because admittedly, no one is going to want to deal with this mess all over again.
Gamora hauls herself up from the mess of crates around her, shaking glass out of her hair before she's following the trail of rubble left behind by Cryon and Peter.
She stops short when she sees the chaos awaiting her outside, her eyes moving from the fiercely struggling drug dealer to Peter, trying to get himself back up. She doesn't immediately go to help him to his feet, muscles coiled and ready to leap at Cryon instead, but she throws a quick, ]
Are you hurt?
[ —over her shoulder to Peter.
... Unfortunately, she doesn't exactly have the time to wait for his answer, because Cryon suddenly throws Drax to the side, sending him bowling into Kraglin and Mantis. Groot leaps free of Mantis's shoulder in time to avoid the heap of bodies, and with a squeaky battle cry, he hits the ground and sends vines curling around Cryon's legs. ]
Groot!
[ It's not only Gamora's voice calling out with concern for the sapling, and Rocket is scrambling back to his feet just as Gamora moves forward to deal with their target.
Groot yanks at Cryon's knees with more tiny shouts, and he manages to send the dealer sprawling to the ground – before Cryon reaches for Groot's small body, dragging him into his hold and snapping the comparatively frail vines that knocked him to the ground. Groot's fierce cries turn to panic, and he pushes at Cryon's fist with his little hands as the man starts to squeeze with that unreasonable strength.
Just as Groot begins to wail, Gamora swoops in with every ounce of speed she has, and with a grapple Cryon barely has time to register, she flips Cryon one direction and keeps the arm holding Groot almost entirely stationary.
... The sound of Cryon's arm dislocating is almost excruciatingly loud – and proof that the drug is starting to wear thin. If they can damage him at all, the Dust should be working its way out of his system, but Gamora is more concerned with catching Groot as Cryon's limp grip releases the tiny tree. ]
[ By the time Peter's even thinking about answering her question, Gamora is already charging in to rescue Groot.
And man, there's no stronger motivator in the world than that kid's panicked cries.
Peter shoves himself to his feet, and so does Rocket, and the instant Gamora moves away from Cryon, the two of them fire on him, bolts of electricity that rack the man's system but only seem to affect him slightly. ]
Gamora, over here!
[ And Peter raises a free hand. Apparently it's time for the Guardians' favorite game: Groot Ball. ]
[ If anything, the electricity combined with his dislocated arm only seem to enrage Cryon, and Gamora is still mentally counting down the seconds until they can really get at this piece of scum. Of course, she's also rapidly become the target of Cryon's Dust-fueled rage, and she barely has time to duck before he swings at her again with his unbroken arm.
She hits the ground, cradling Groot protectively in one hand, until Peter's voice draws her attention away from their raging enemy. ]
Take him!
[ She calls right back before she chucks Groot across the field to Peter (and, for all that it may be irresponsible to throw a child, Groot actually giggles as he soars through the air).
Fortunately, with both hands free, she has the right amount of time to react when Cryon swings again for her, and she reaches up to catch the blow, using his own momentum to throw him as far as she can manage. He lands on his damaged shoulder with a howl of pain, but he's noticeably slower getting to his feet this time. ]
[ Sure, it's irresponsible, but that's pretty much the Guardians' mode of operation. So when Groot gleefully flies toward him, Peter snatches him out of the air, helping the little guy clamber onto Peter's shoulder.
After that, Cryon crashes to the floor, screaming with pain, and when he gets up again, Peter heaves out a sigh. ]
Just stay down, man—
[ But Cryon doesn't listen, and instead makes another dash for the exit. Drax, at least, physically blocks his path latching onto the man's dislocated shoulder and twisting. Cryon howls again, lashing out with his good arm. Whatever effects the drug still has is enough to break Drax's hold, however, and Drax kicks out, the sole of his boot connecting with Cryon's gut. Cryon flies back, sprawling out, and snarling with rage. He makes to jump up again, but—
Peter shoots him. Again and again. And again, just for good measure. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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.
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[ 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.
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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?
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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.
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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.
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[ 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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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[ 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.
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[ 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.
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(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.
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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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Gamora hauls herself up from the mess of crates around her, shaking glass out of her hair before she's following the trail of rubble left behind by Cryon and Peter.
She stops short when she sees the chaos awaiting her outside, her eyes moving from the fiercely struggling drug dealer to Peter, trying to get himself back up. She doesn't immediately go to help him to his feet, muscles coiled and ready to leap at Cryon instead, but she throws a quick, ]
Are you hurt?
[ —over her shoulder to Peter.
... Unfortunately, she doesn't exactly have the time to wait for his answer, because Cryon suddenly throws Drax to the side, sending him bowling into Kraglin and Mantis. Groot leaps free of Mantis's shoulder in time to avoid the heap of bodies, and with a squeaky battle cry, he hits the ground and sends vines curling around Cryon's legs. ]
Groot!
[ It's not only Gamora's voice calling out with concern for the sapling, and Rocket is scrambling back to his feet just as Gamora moves forward to deal with their target.
Groot yanks at Cryon's knees with more tiny shouts, and he manages to send the dealer sprawling to the ground – before Cryon reaches for Groot's small body, dragging him into his hold and snapping the comparatively frail vines that knocked him to the ground. Groot's fierce cries turn to panic, and he pushes at Cryon's fist with his little hands as the man starts to squeeze with that unreasonable strength.
Just as Groot begins to wail, Gamora swoops in with every ounce of speed she has, and with a grapple Cryon barely has time to register, she flips Cryon one direction and keeps the arm holding Groot almost entirely stationary.
... The sound of Cryon's arm dislocating is almost excruciatingly loud – and proof that the drug is starting to wear thin. If they can damage him at all, the Dust should be working its way out of his system, but Gamora is more concerned with catching Groot as Cryon's limp grip releases the tiny tree. ]
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And man, there's no stronger motivator in the world than that kid's panicked cries.
Peter shoves himself to his feet, and so does Rocket, and the instant Gamora moves away from Cryon, the two of them fire on him, bolts of electricity that rack the man's system but only seem to affect him slightly. ]
Gamora, over here!
[ And Peter raises a free hand. Apparently it's time for the Guardians' favorite game: Groot Ball. ]
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She hits the ground, cradling Groot protectively in one hand, until Peter's voice draws her attention away from their raging enemy. ]
Take him!
[ She calls right back before she chucks Groot across the field to Peter (and, for all that it may be irresponsible to throw a child, Groot actually giggles as he soars through the air).
Fortunately, with both hands free, she has the right amount of time to react when Cryon swings again for her, and she reaches up to catch the blow, using his own momentum to throw him as far as she can manage. He lands on his damaged shoulder with a howl of pain, but he's noticeably slower getting to his feet this time. ]
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After that, Cryon crashes to the floor, screaming with pain, and when he gets up again, Peter heaves out a sigh. ]
Just stay down, man—
[ But Cryon doesn't listen, and instead makes another dash for the exit. Drax, at least, physically blocks his path latching onto the man's dislocated shoulder and twisting. Cryon howls again, lashing out with his good arm. Whatever effects the drug still has is enough to break Drax's hold, however, and Drax kicks out, the sole of his boot connecting with Cryon's gut. Cryon flies back, sprawling out, and snarling with rage. He makes to jump up again, but—
Peter shoots him. Again and again. And again, just for good measure. ]
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what the fuck i never got this notif....
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