Chapter Text
The volume of the crowd inside the bar rose and fell each minute, as if someone was constantly turning a knob on a radio. Aliens surrounding the tables on the far side placed their bets, rooting for either party which took part in the current match of strength. Arm wrestling was quite popular in this bar, not that Drax was complaining- he just kept stacking up units. Quill wasn't complaining either.
Rocket sat next to Peter at the bar at the far left end near the wall, snickering as each contender ended up on the floor or crying due to their comrade's brutal strength. The colorful surrounding group of aliens cheered and let out a unified "OHHHHH!" As Drax's Krylorian opponent's arm nearly went through the table with an audible clap of skin meeting metal.
"HAHAHAHA! YES!" he boomed, the Krylorian hissing curses and rubbing his arm painfully, excusing himself to a peaceful seat at the bar.
"Let's have another, shall we?" The Destroyer grinned, a larger, well-built male taking the seat opposite him.
"This oughta be good!" Rocket snorted, drinking the last of the berry-like, sweet blue liquid from his shot glass.
"Quill!"
Peter's head flicked up at the sound of his name, to see Gamora marching across the bar towards him. She didn't look happy at all- damn. Another mission already? What now? Actually, as she got closer, he could see a bit of fear in her eyes. This couldn't be good at all, "What-?"
"We need to leave- now. Grab Drax. Meet me at the Milano, we need to have a discussion," she reported, biting her lip.
"Already on it," Peter smiled.
Rocket groaned, putting his glass on the counter, then joining Quill on their short walk to the table, squeezing between a few aliens.
"Drax! Buddy! Close up shop, we gotta go!" Peter yelled over the crowd, waving an arm at his tattooed compatriot.
"Ah, so ends our time," he announced as he finally slammed his opponent's arm down harshly, then stuffing his well earned units in his pocket as the crowd roared. Final score: 11-0.
The walk back to the Milano was brisque, not only because this planet's current weather was rather chilly, but so they didn't further encourage the wrath of Gamora due to the mens' tardiness. Once inside his beloved ship, Quill removed his jacket and relished the toasty temperature inside, joining his friends at the ovular discussion table. Gamora held a template in her hands, reading it thoroughly once again it appeared. It was hard to read her expression, but she obviously was no where close to cheerful.
"Alright, what's the deal?" Inquired Rocket, seating himself between Groot and Drax, "Out with it already."
Gamora shook her head in disbelief, taking a moment to soak in the last few sentences she read before she was interrupted, "I received a message from Rhomann Dey...it....doesn't make sense."
"Rhomann Dey from Xandar? What reason does he have for contacting us?" Drax asked, blinking. He expected as little as the others did to have a message from Xandar again.
"He says that upon further inspection of the Infinity Stone, something...happened, and now they have Ronan alive, in a maximum security prison cell."
Peter's mouth opened so fast if it wasn't part of his skull, it would have hit the floor and split in two, "Wait, what?"
"I still don't believe it-" Gamora started.
"I am Groot," commented Groot, furrowing his brow of tree bark.
"I don't know how this is possible either- I'm wracking my brains right now!" Rocket scratched himself behind the ear.
"Well then let's go to Xandar and see for ourselves, and destroy him once and for all," Drax declared, clenching his fists against the table.
"He said Nova Prime wanted to see us personally, and see if we had any thoughts on what to do with him," Gamora finished, eyes settling on Peter.
Peter finally shut his mouth and swallowed, brows furrowing. "Well then, let's get a move on..." He finished, standing and heading towards the cockpit.