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[ The unexpected aspect of being kidnapped for no discernible reason to a deserted city is that there's not that much to do.

At least when he was kidnapped by the Ravagers, they wasted little time on getting him to work. The sent him to the Tailor, got him kitted out in Ravager garb, and immediately started putting him through his paces. He learned to fight, to steal, to shoot, and lived in daily fear for his life for, oh, about a decade or so – until it became clear that he was smarter and faster than most of the other Ravagers, anyway. It helped, too, once he got a ship to call his own and could leave the Eclector for weeks at a time.

But this place, though – to their credit, the kidnapping part had been about as painless as they come. After that, he expected they would be confronted by their abductors, by some pompous asshole on a raised dais who would either A.) tell them that resistance is futile or B.) invite them to join whatever weird cult they were building, but it's been radio silence.

In the meantime, Peter's been poking at the network. And he's been scavenging supplies – including squirreling away enough AA batteries to last him a lifetime. He's also swiped a portable external speaker from an electronics store – or, possibly, he's cobbled something together from parts he scavenged from the dead cars littering the place. No one's going to be using, them after all, unless someone has the chutzpah to put together an engine from the devices available throughout the city and to figure out a good replacement for gasoline.

(Rocket probably could, he thinks with a pang.)

He picks up scraps of information and rumor, here and there, but he's been distracted. His heart hasn't entirely been in it. His head isn't exactly screwed on straight. Any number of excuses regarding his inability to focus go here. Right now, he's kind of just doing enough to survive.

And so, here they are now: a former professional thief and a former galaxy-class assassin. Grocery shopping.

Or, you know. Looting. "Looting" might be the more apt term.

We're also learning that Peter is that kind of asshole, who plays music aloud in public. At some point, Peter has gotten a new backpack (his old childhood Jansport was too precious to take with him out and about, so he's opted to leave it at their shared apartment), and nestled in the bottle pocket is Peter's Walkman and aforementioned external speaker.

Currently, "Cherry Bomb" by The Runaways is playing.]

Think fast.

[ This, as he's tossing a package of reusable ice packs at Nebula's head – the kind meant for treating injuries, not the kind for keeping your lunch fresh. ]

[ There was a time where music was a foreign unknown. Why would Thanos play music on the Sanctuary II? Surely, she must have heard it when she was a child - before, but like a lot (most) things she doesn't remember it. The few things she does has always been a scattering of bad she'd rather not think about. In her adulthood, she was often too consumed with anger to pay attention to anything that might be music on one of the many planets they had hits on. Focus on the mission, the kill, and get out. It's all she knew then. ]

[ Music is as much a norm in her life as eating or sleeping. She'd spent long enough with Rocket on the Benatar that the odd sounds he'd once played had eventually started to sound like something more, even to her ears which are all replaced circuitry. It became a constant, one that thrummed through her life as an Avenger and now a Guardian (formerly or otherwise). In some ways, if she looked for a word for it, it was symbolic of freedom, maybe joy. She can enjoy it now, in more than just listening. Dance — if she wanted. ]

[ Let's be clear on the fact she's not dancing now or anywhere near doing so. ]

[ The music is, at least, familiar that it helps her relax a touch. While their collection of music has vastly expanded, it's no doubt she's as familiar with these particular soundtracks as the others. Hearing it loud and in surround is also often the norm, given they tend to blast it on the crew quarters of the Bowie (and if Rocket's in charge, in the central living space on Knowhere). Maybe it'd aggravate her in a different time or place, but here it gives an aching feeling of home that she'd rather it not. ]

[ Home is where she'd rather be, then this bizarre Terran seeming city with its items that are familiar-but-not and a worrying lack of supplies she'd personally need. Food, water, and clothing is fine. But a medical aisle is half-synonymous with mechanical equipment for parts of the galaxy. It definitely is for her and the lack of it is... Worrying, for her specifically, and the populace is noticeably more human than not. ]

[ It's this she's thinking about as she scans the aisle for something that would be more of use to her than 'anti-itch cream' and 'bandaids' ( god, they're so far on a dumpster planet it cuts need to be bandaged?? ) The music isn't so loud she fails to hear him over it. And she's spinning from her somewhat moody curiosity. There's a few options she could take here and the one she settles on is a quick movement, dropping the item she'd been idly looking at in favor of aggressively snapping it up in one hand with a growl and... It's the metal hand.

Do you know what that means? It means that the feeling of it is too aggressive and the packaging smooshes in and so does the - currently soft - icepack that explodes at the pressure. Covering her arm in the goop and her clothes and... quite possibly some of him, depending on how close he is. ]

[ I'm so sorry (or are we): She stares at it and him and then back again as she asks, a touch too dangeously: ]

What was that for?

[ Thankfully for the state of his clothing, he was far enough away to not be in the splash zone.

He does, however, immediately bark out a delighted laugh. Sorry, Nebula. ]

Holy shit. I've never seen that happen.

[ Like, he always knew it was possible, but still.

At the very least, he does Nebula the courtesy of freeing a rag – a clean one, of course – from his bag and offering it over. With his free hand, he gestures to his own cheek – the near universal sign for, You've got a little something.

Innocently, ]

I was thinking we should stock up. In case of sprains.

[ Nebula glowers at him because this is clearly his fault and would never be hers. Glares between him and the rag for a moment as if she wants to trust anything from him at the moment She doesn't, even so the gunk is quickly trailing down her arm and she'd rather not deal with that mess later. So she yanks it from him the way one might say 'they're on thin ice'. ]

[ Growls out a: ]

You knew that would happen.

[ Continues cleaning up her arm the way an angry cat might take a bath. She's fuming as she casts him a dubious look: ]

How is that supposed to help?

[ Look. She doesn't know. They use medpacks! And her body naturally heals itself (it's not natural and it's painful, but look she's never had to use Earth medicine. ]

Ice and heat is how you treat sprains. Sore muscles.

[ The Ravagers were certainly more advanced than a regular family on Earth, but they were also cheap as hell, too. It meant that they did things the old-fashioned way more often than not for mild injuries, and it meant that med packs weren't always doled out for injuries. Sure, if someone was bleeding all over the place, they'd get one out of storage, but if a dude was just dealing with a black eye? It was the old frozen peas treatment.

(Not that they had frozen peas on the Eclector.)

Plus, the Ravagers were of a mind that immediately healing up from his bumps and bruises and sprains was no way to toughen Peter up. ]

And in my defense, I thought you'd catch the thing. I didn't think you'd obliterate it.

[ Much of her life was determined by if healing and care was a benefit or a detriment. Thano's parenting style was so often punishment - punishment for anything, no matter how small, you learned to deal with the brunt of it. Unless it was absolutely necessary and he wanted to keep you alive - and unlike Gamora he was very clear she was useful until she was useless - you were on your own, had to take it by the chin. ]

[ And so often she was the failed child, the looked down upon one, she handled things herself. It doesn't cross her mind that it was more normal to take care of it than to simply deal with the pain for most people — They call her a sadist, it was just her life. Even the healing she does have is more painful than not. ]

[ So she's skeptical yet, thinks it would take too long and she'd just deal with it anyway, as she wipes the rest of the stupid gunk off. ]

Earth really is a backwater planet.

[ Mumbled under her breath as she twists her arm to look at it. Accesses the chip for it's functionality to separate the wires and get the places she didn't clean up. She cares less about her clothes - replaceable - than the utility of her arm. ]

[ As she listens and cleans she deadpans, ]

You're the one who threw something at me.

[ With all the emphasis of why would you throw something at a trained warrior to NOT expect them to respond quickly?? ]

Not that backwater.

[ He's defensive on instinct – but that's always been his mode of operation. Sticking up for the little guy. And, sure, on the galactic stage, Earth didn't hold a whole lot of sway, but it was scrappy as hell, and it was the site of a huge fuck-off war. So maybe Peter has some pride for the home team. ]

And I can't repeat this enough: I thought you'd catch it.

[ He enunciates the words, though without any heat.

He plucks up another package of ice packs. ]

Try not to blow this one up.

[ as he tosses it over. ]

Backwaters enough.

[ Said as crunches the now dirty rag in her hand and looks for the nearest place to toss it that's not just being an outright heathen.]

Technically, I did.

[ Just a little too well. ]

[ Hands now free, she does in fact catch the next one he tosses off. More gently than before, being both aware he is and knowing the right pressure to use to do it... Tossing it downwards into the basket that they probably have (hopefully have). ]

We need a decent toolkit, there are non in this store.

Define decent. 'Cause your definition of "decent" might have to come down a little.

[ He means to sound more thoughtful than annoying, at least.

She does keep insisting on how underdeveloped Earth is. ]

[ She sighs and roll hers eyes, ]

A basic one will do.

[ He hums thoughtfully, considering, then, ]

Hardware store, then. Maybe an electronics store.

[ Does this place have any generic RadioShacks around? Perhaps!

The next thing he plucks up is packages of bandage wraps. This, at least, he stuffs into his own backpack. Evidently he's gearing up for some possible confrontation. Maybe it's hopeful thinking that he's also expecting to see whatever fight is on the horizon to the other side. ]

We'll hit one up when we've finished here.

[ It's thoughtless, how he says "we." They're already moving as a unit today, so why break up a good thing?

Back with the Guardians, Peter had always been the one most accustomed to the idea of working as a team. Everyone else was some variation on "lone wolf" and had to be taught to work as a unit. He likes to think that his guidance had something to do with it, but probably not. ]

[ They better have something or she'll be (even more) grumpy (than usual). ]

[ She watches him out of the corner of her eye as she continues to look the aisle over. Spots the pain relievers and resists a scoff because why would she ever? In the back of her mind an old voice tells her to accept the help it'd give and another says it's just another weakness. She ignores both, picks it up and chooses to toss it at Peter.

It's for him, not her. ]

Piss someone off already?

[ She gives a tilt of her head at his back and the aisle they've been on. It's not meant in any way serious, and Peter should know her enough to tell the deadpan humor in her voice. ]

[ Stocking up on what they inevitably needed was an important venture. Which is why her mind is half far away, knowing most of this is (usually) useless to her in some form or another. She nods at the mention of heading out later - Not even questioning the we in the moment. ]

[ So much of her life had been a 'we/them' with Gamora, even if it was torn into bitter rivalry at times (most times). They fought together and the Guardians did - it was only a natural assumption now, sticking together. ]

We'll want to pick up materials we can make into melee weapons. Anything else you can think of?

[ He recognizes her question for the teasing it is, and he flashes her a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. ]

Hopefully. Eventually.

[ You know, in a way that signals that at some point, Peter hopes he might spur himself to doing something, instead of just treading water.

(Maybe Peter is a masochist to Nebula's sadist.) ]

More stuff from the hardware store, probably. Sledgehammers and junk, maybe. Axes.

[ He plucks up a bottle of disinfectant, this time, which he tosses lightly into Nebula's basket. He apparently has a sorting system going on, but fuck if he or anyone else might be able to discern it. ]

Unless you actually mean making, in which case, hardware store again. I'll watch you carve a spear.

Invite me along, would you? I could use someone's ass to kick.

[ Nebula doesn't smile. Like so many things, she doesn't doing something with false pretenses. Peter's barely there one is enough to fight back a roll of her eyes. There's no use pretending something you're not, least of wise around her. That's what that lightly-humored tone seems to say without saying it. They're not going it alone. ]

[ Rather that was a good thing or a bad thing was yet to be seen. ]

Unless they've decided those are too dangerous, too.

[ She's noticed there are no guns. No bows and arrows. There might be some toy guns, but squirting water at people isn't going to do her any damn good. If she did that she might as well give up and die of embarrassment already. ]

Making. Modifying. We'll need to do a both. [ If they had enough metal, maybe they could melt them down. She was taught in all sorts of exotic weaponry - but did she really know how to make them in a pinch? She knows enough - to care for her own body, ships, and maintenance - but she's definitely not Rocket. ] A pity. I really am better at a gun. It's Gamora you want for stabbing people.

I only do it for fun.

[ Predictably, the mention of Gamora's name is enough to make him pause.

It's a little like the old days all over again – well. "Old days" as in, the days after all That Bullshit. When the first left Earth with Thor, and Nebula had already warned Peter away from searching for the other Gamora. He did it anyway. What's more, he knew that Nebula knew, too. Searching for a signature, scanning newsfeeds for any hint of her presence. It was only after he repeatedly came up empty-handed that he finally quit.

This round, at least, he's learned his lessons, and he's avoided doing anything that could be a blood relative of stalking. He's been tempted, of course – because as big as the city is, it's not that big – but he'd rather not tempt the wrath of both of the sisters in one fell swoop.

He makes a concerted effort to keep his voice light, ]

You planning on recruiting and outfitting an army or something?

[ To say bringing up her sister was entirely an accident would be a lie. Their relationship is different from the others, but no less important. Begrudgingly, she admits no less important for Peter - if only for Peter. ]

[ Nebula gives a slight cant of her head before turning it away - attention half on him as if to read him. As far as she knows he hasn't made contact with her sister and as of yet hasn't asked about her again (but she has spoken to her). She tosses another item into the bag: ]

An army? I'd be outfitting kids. [ There's hostile disdain at the thought. She may have done a lot of things, but one thing she wouldn't do is have a child grow in the same way as she had. As a weapon and a tool to be used, even if that meant getting them home. ] No, but we need to know what we can work with. Which so far isn't much.

There are a lot of kids, yeah, but there are a lot of adults, too.

[ And most of them seem able-bodied.

Weird as fuck, sure, at least from what Peter's encountered, but surely capable of lifting up a big whacking stick, if necessary. ]

Just saying, there's just you and me. [ And Gamora, too. Whenever the shit hits the fan, he has no doubt about which side she'll likely go with. ]

Even if we do make, like, a gazillion spears or clubs or whatever it is you wanna make, we've only got so many hands.

One of the only adults I've met was jumping around on the train tracks like it was a game.

[ An immediate return. Because somehow she keeps running into the kids and weirdos (I'm sorry). It's the tone of someone who doesn't think she can rely on them for much. ]

And Gamora.

[ He doesn't say it, but she does. The fact she doesn't even reject that he'd be of use is practically a compliment, isn't it? ]

I wasn't going to make a gazillion. [ She rolls her eyes. ] And I have been trying to find others.

Edited 2023-08-01 03:45 (UTC)

[ Mostly because, yes, he's run into a couple of kids, but he's also spoken with (or texted with, as the case may be) with adults, too. So—

He's doing some mental math, here. ]

Hold on. Have you mostly been talking to kids?

[ Man if only she spoke more on the network versus just stalking it :( ]

[ She pauses at that, raises a brow. Wonders if he's thinking something strange and answers: ]

No. But I might as well be.

[ Okay. Well, that might be a little true, and the corner of his mouth quirks a little with a smile. ]

Fair enough.

[ He spurs himself back into motion – this time plucking up a couple boxes of wound pads and a few boxes of adhesive bandages that, mysteriously, go into his own bag.

His voice takes on a sort of sing-song tone: ]

And have you been making friends?

[ In the same way a mother from an old black and white TV sitcom might ask, "Are you getting along with the other boys?" ]

[ For a moment — a too long moment — she thinks about chucking the box she had picked up at his head rather than dropping it in the basket. It wouldn't hurt much and it'd satisfy her bridling annoyance for the moment. ]

[ Especially when he continues in what she can only decide is a mocking manner (it's not, but still). In the same deadpan way as before she questions back: ]

What do you think?

As long as you're not picking fights.

[ Not like he used to, as a kid. Years and years later, he knows he was acting out and picking fights with assholes because he wanted to feel in control of something and wanted to be the hero out of some fantasy, swooping in to save the day.

Mostly, though, he just got his ass beat.

He's heading down the aisle way, apparently bored with medical supplies for the moment, before grabbing something bland. Like un-branded toothpaste – recommended by 9 out of 10 nameless dentists! ]

Anyone interesting?

I don't start fights I can't finish.

[ THAT IS NOT THE POINT NEBULA? It is not what he means? (She thinks it's what he means) ]

[ Regardless of how plainly - blandly - she says it, like it's not even a thought to get stuck on, she does consider his next question. Thinks minutely of the girl who's probably too innocent for a world like this thinking she's likeable and nice. And she's not sure what to do with that — ]

No.

[ Said too quickly, added just as quickly: ]

Someone who is Asgardian. Someone who agreed with Thanos's rhetoric. And an idiot jumping on tracks.

[ There's more but they're the first ones that come to mind as interesting. The first is the one she possibly considers as most valuable. ]

Edited 2023-08-01 04:48 (UTC)

[ His nose wrinkles in distaste at— well. All of that. But his attention catches on the bit that matters.

Thoughtfully, ]

Asgardian, huh?

[ He's reasonably sure they're alone in the store, but he pauses, listening. Maybe he's paranoid as fuck, and he can count on one hand the number of people he trusts in this place and still have fingers leftover. And maybe it's silly, considering whoever their captors had some ability to watch over them.

Still, he tries to make sure they've got the store to themselves, at least for the moment. He knows his senses aren't quite as keen as Nebula's, which is why he drops his voice. ]

Anyone else here?

gently slams in here

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