alnifolia | OPEN POST;

Please. I wouldn't gloat--

[ Except that she totally would. ]

But I'm honored. If this next job goes well, they get to meet the woman who brought Star-Lord to a soiree as her +1, too.

[ He arches an eyebrow at her. ]

We attendin' another shindig, Goto?

[ She responds in a hushed tone, ] That was the plan, if you're interested. I can tell you more in that dark, nondescript alley were talking about earlier once we get out of here.

[ The raising of his eyebrows goes unseen behind his mask. That was a surprisingly brutal statement, for someone who built their reputation on being a thief.

He goes silent for a little while, considering his options. ]

Tell me, Goto. How do I know you aren't gonna just stab me in the back once I let you at Hock? A life of crime doesn't exactly make us the most trustworthy of folks, you understand.

[ His smile in return is bright. ]

I'm ready to have a discussion whenever you are.

Great.

[ And with that, she finishes the last drops of her drink, sets her glass down onto the bar, and slips out of her seat. ]

Then let's take a walk, shall we, Star-Lord?

I understand completely, of course.

[ Her body remains in its stillness, tense but somehow calm at the same time, as she exhales silently as she continues her way through this negotiation. ]

Honestly? I'd be in your debt if you went with me on this. I'm sure you've figured by now, but Hock is a huge thorn in my side. And I in his, of course. If this encounter never took place, I would have just found someone else to help me end this little saga between he and I.

[ Somewhat of a weak argument, of course, but at least she's being honest, and maybe he'll pick up on that. She knows she can't take Hock alone; it's too risky, and if he somehow got the jump on her and took her graybox before she was able to activate her failsafe, then the galaxy would be fucked. Luckily, it wasn't Hock who got the jump on her, but this Star-Lord hitman, which has given her the rare opportunity to turn things around. ]

[ He does the same, bowing to her with a flourish of his hand and offering his elbow. ]

After you, my lady.

[ More silence on his part.

Peter hasn't broken a contract before, not even when his targets spouted ridiculous numbers at him. Not even when they swore to deliver him anything he had ever wanted or dreamed of. He hasn't gone back on a deal, no matter how slimy or disgusting his contractee had been -- and he had been contracted by quite a few men and women who fit that description and then some.

It should be worrisome, then, that he's considering this.

One of the things Yondu taught him was to always go with his gut instinct. "It'll keep that dumbass head'a' yours attached to them dumbass shoulders." If the deal didn't seem good, you bailed. If the time didn't seem right to take out your quarry, you waited for another. So he supposes it would logically follow that if the client was a dickbag, if it seemed like he'd turn on you as soon as look at you, you turn a blind eye to whatever befalls him once your end of the deal is done.

Peter smiles behind his mask.

He flicks his wrist, retracting the blade of his knife. In one fluid movement, he presses the handle into Kasumi's free hand while he shoves her forward. He unholsters a blaster, aiming it at her back. ]

Really nice try, Goto. I mean, seriously. Points for effort. If you'd go ahead and turn around and put your guns on the floor -- slowly -- I'd be seriously obliged.

[ She offers him a pleased little hum, tilting her head as she takes his arm with hers and whispering as they walk, ]

We're not undercover yet, Quill.

[ She holds up her hand, twirling the handle of the retracted blade between her deft fingers as she continues to face away from Star-Lord with a thoughtful hum. ]

You'd deprive a woman of her guns?

[ Beggars can't be choosers, though, and she needs him to be sure that she's not going to turn on him because, honestly, she's going to need him to pull this off. She knows that much, so in spite of the initial sass, she unholsters the pistol at her hip and sets it down on the floor, followed soon by the submachine gun holstered behind her. ]

Very well, then.

[ He just grins in return. ]

I just like treatin' a lady right. That so wrong, Goto?

[ Mostly, he's doing it for the cameras.

And the mics. And whatever the fuck else a paranoid fuckmook like Hock has down here. Kasumi's plan isn't going to work, after all, if they give the asshole a reason to be suspicious of both of them.

It's why he gave her the knife, anyway. If she needs a weapon later -- which she will, if she wants to kill Hock -- there it is.

His voice is stern when he speaks again -- clipped. Business-like. More like the Star-Lord one might expect, rather than the grinning, joking guy he actually is. ]

Kick them over. Slowly.

[ Too bad she didn't get a chance to hack into the cameras before this all went down.

But she's caught on to his act, which is why she does as she's told without a word. Goodbye, trusty Phalanx. Goodbye, trusty Shuriken. ]

Right. How could I forget? You did that so well on our last job together.

[ He picks them up, one after another, and places one in his vacated holster, the other he keeps in his free hand.

He closes the space between them again, and presses the muzzle of his gun against her back. ]

Now, you and I are gonna take a walk. I'd cuff you, except you and I both know you'd just be out of 'em in a few seconds.

Up the stairs to the right, if you'd be so kind.

[ If he could, he'd bow. As it is, he just kind of waves his hand, as if doffing an imaginary hat. ]

A-thank you.

[ He directs them into a nearby alley, and after a cursory inspection, it seems deserted. ]

This dark and nondescript enough for you?

[ When Shepard declared it was finally time to take the fight back to Earth, to take it back, she could scarcely imagine being anywhere other than down there, in the thick of the fight. Staying on the Crucible might have, in reality, been the most logical choice for her; she might have been there to make sure everything ran smoothly alongside the scientists and engineers she's been working with, and sure enough that had been her first idea, but when the call to arms came, it was Peter who brought up the idea of fighting on the ground. The Milano was small, but incredibly fast, and incredibly well-armed--it could provide cover. And by now, the Guardians have grown so much as a team that when they fight together, they form a rather formidable force by themselves. They would be bolstering the ground forces comprised of Alliance military, N7 operatives, and troops from other militaries that could spare the forces (including the Nova Corps), and unconventional as they are as a unit, the war had reached a point where any help was good help.

Kasumi could only go along with it, if nothing else because she couldn't bear the thought of not being anywhere near Peter when this would all go down. How could she? After all, if things were to go south, she would want to be right there by his side. Partners till the very end.

When the final push began, it was a fury of bullets, blasts, blades, explosives, tree branches, you name it. Kasumi had kept herself mostly visible unless absolutely necessary, knowing that in the middle of an epic fight for the fate of the galaxy probably wouldn’t be a good time to be popping in and out of sight in front of your significant other. For the most part, it worked. They were working fluidly with the other troops and operatives, and the Milano, piloted at a short distance by Rocket, proved to be a valuable asset.

But still, there was only so much they could do against the sheer number of Reapers swarming them.

The closest call involved a Banshee—the Ardat-Yakshi asari turned nightmare fuel that had that “teleporting bullshit,” as Peter dubbed it. One had bullshit-teleported right behind them, behind their cover, and caught them off guard. With its clawed hands it grabbed Peter by his head, lifting him up off the ground as Kasumi screamed; somehow this thing wouldn’t die even as she emptied an entire clip from her Locust into it, and in the end it was a giant blast from a Rocket-fashioned cannon that blew the Banshee to bits, or at least enough to force it to drop Peter before Kasumi proceeded to personally execute it with her omni-blade.

And she would have immediately dropped to Peter’s side, to make sure he was okay, if a Scion hadn’t swooped in and grabbed her, too, throwing her against a pile of rubble before it’s promptly disposed of by a few nearby operatives.

At this point, she’d been tossed around a few times and had come to sport a few wounds here and there—much like everyone else who’s fighting. But it’s that moment, almost losing Peter, and getting her ass kicked by a Scion, that really does her in, and she can scarcely find the strength to remove herself up off the rubble so she can limp over to Peter, dropping down to her knees and using all that’s left of her strength to cradle him in her arms.

”Don’t you dare die on me, Star-Lord.”

The next few moments were a blur. She remembers a blinding red light; she remembers opening her eyes to an oncoming horde of Husks (and seriously, fuck those guys) before she has to close them again from the next flash of red that comes; she remembers being engulfed in a strange light and warmth that seems to just wash through the whole city, and she remembers that when she opened her eyes again, the Husks were gone, and the largest Reapers were practically toppling over one another in a giant heap of dead robotic cuttlefish. It was then that Kasumi realizes.

She did it. Shepard really did it.

A few days later, and the Guardians remain in New York, the Milano parked on a spot near the military camp. They are all really banged up, even Drax, but they choose to continue tending their wounds inside the ship, seeing as the medical tents and what’s left of the hospitals around are absolutely packed. That, and no one has any idea what to do after this.

Kasumi has personally never been more thankful in her entire life that she’s walked away from this ordeal with a bruised up body, a whole lot of cuts and wounds from bullets grazing her skin, and a pretty banged up leg, because apparently a piece of metal had impaled her thigh when she was unceremoniously thrown at the rubble. And Peter? Well, a lot of the same, really, although the Banshee grabbing his head didn’t do him any favors, for sure.

She’s barely left his side, not that she really can, given the state of her leg, but all the same, she tries to take care of any of his medical needs outside of the things that only the medic who comes by now and then can do. Right now, she’s seated beside his bed as he rests, dressing a deep wound on his arm. There was only so much Medi-Gel could do, after all, and it was becoming a rather rare commodity, so they’d only used theirs on the gravest of wounds. ]

[ The fact of the matter is, Earth hasn't been Peter's actual home for a very long time. He would make excuse after excuse, figure out ways to avoid going home, even after he had earned his place with the Ravagers and was gifted his own ship. "It's been too long. They probably think I'm dead. I'm too different -- they wouldn't recognize me. There's nothing for me there anymore." Anything to avoid seeing the disappointment in the faces of his family when they saw the sort of man he'd become -- selfish and arrogant and rough around the edges and nothing at all like the kind, sweet boy Mom thought he was. And then he turned his life around, in a manner of speaking, made a name for himself with the Nova Corps, and he still couldn't bring himself to touch down in Missouri.

And then it was too late.

The Reapers took that choice from him, in the end, and that's why he finally forced himself to fly to Earth. The team was forced to start shooting the instant the airlock doors parted, and it wasn't until later that he appreciated the fact the first time he stepped foot on Terran soil in almost thirty years, he was fighting for it. It should have been poetic, in a way.

So then there was a lot of battling and shooting and at some point it became less of a push and more of a try-not-to-die, and he and his team had been lucky as fuck to not suffer any serious injuries. Which he should not have said aloud, really, because not five minutes later did the Banshee find them behind cover, wrapped her hand around Peter's jaw and face and lifted him like he was a fucking rag doll. The worst part of it was the way her claws dug into the side of his head, gouged his skin, punctured and damaged the delicate attachment behind his ear, causing his helmet to retract.

And because of that, he had clear vision of the Banshee as she reared her free hand back, caught sight of those too-sharp talons. He wished he had a more eloquent final thought than, Oh, fuck me.

He felt the Banshee's nails dig in just beneath his sternum, but then there was an explosion and her claws tore to one side instead of penetrating through when the two of them were blasted apart, and his head and back slammed against shattered masonry, and he rolled the rest of the way to the ground. Everything swam and dipped and spun in front of him, and Kasumi darted toward him, and he faintly remembered lifing a hand up to her, but then she was snatched away and everything went black.

The first time he woke, he didn't know where he was or what was happening, except that Kasumi was just there, she was just there, and he screamed her name, and the medics had to hold him down while they were trying to stitch him shut and told him to lie back, sir, you're alright, calm down, calm down, only their words wouldn't settle in his head because she was just here, where was she, please, please--

They sedated him after that.

The next time he woke, it was to the familiar ceiling of the Milano, and he thought briefly that this was a dream, or maybe that he was dead, because his ship has been home for a long time, and if he had to be anyplace, it'd be here. But then again, his whole body ached and throbbed, but especially his head and chest, so maybe not dead or dreaming. It's only as he reached up to rub his temples that he noticed that he was practically swathed in bandages, and then Kasumi was whispering his name, and he doesn't think he's ever heard a sweeter fucking sound in his whole damn life.

He, Kasumi, and the Guardians came out of this relatively unscathed, and Peter doesn't know what to attribute their luck to, but he spends every waking moment sending it his silent thanks. Because they had all been in the thick of it and had gone into the battle knowing they wouldn't come back out. Except they did, and they're here, and even the fucking ship came out okay, if not a bit dinged and dented. The first night after he finally woke, he didn't fall back asleep. He was afraid this really was a dream, and the instant he shut his eyes, Kasumi would be gone, his friends would be gone, and he'd be alone somewhere, surrounded by strangers.

They're healing now, and like Kasumi, Peter can't move around too much. Broken ribs and a serious concussion and deep, angry slashes across his torso and on the right side of his head, courtesy of that fucking Banshee. He doesn't remember where the arm wound came from, but he's not surprised by it. The concussion makes it hard for him to focus, sometimes, so he isn't the best conversational partner; a lot of the time he simply takes Kasumi's hand in his, using the point of contact as an anchor to convince himself they're here, they're alive. They made it.

Peter murmurs a word of thanks as she's finishing off wrapping the bandage, and he shifts slowly over to one side on the bed, patting the empty space. ]

C'mon. [ His voice is still a little rough and really fucking tired-sounding, but he expect everyone who's recovering from the final push is the same way. ] Room for one more, dude.

[ She keeps her gaze forward, the grin that spreads across her lips going unseen. ]

Hey, I can stay in cuffs if it's for something fun.

[ You're flirting with danger, there, Kasumi. Literally. But she figures she might as well try and make this ideal any fun. In any case, she takes the stairs up and to the right as instructed, idly noting all the artwork hanging up on the walls. She hates how great Hock's taste is. He doesn't deserve these pieces. ]

Oh, it'll do.

[ She lets go of his arm as she steps into the darkness of the alley, leaning against the wall and folding her arms. ]

So. I know you weren't exactly excited about the soiree last time, but I'm afraid you've been invited to yet another one. You'll have a plus-one this time, though.

[ Peter doesn't know, but she was there when the medics were stitching him up. Or rather, she was in the next room over, completely awake and aware and adrenaline barely pumping as the medics worked to extract the shards of metal embedded in her leg, having insisted that the dwindling supply of anesthetics were better put to use on people with graver injuries. So she'd heard when Peter awoke, heard him screaming her name, and it broke her heart. If she could have been right there at his side, she would have. She would've made sure she was the first damn thing he'd see when he came to, to let him know that she's here, alive and in one piece, somewhat.

But she couldn't, so she's trying to make up for it by personally overseeing his recovery in spite of her own injuries. When he's awake, she tries to stay awake, too. When he's resting, she's there, watching and holding his hand, making sure nothing's wrong, or she drifts to sleep herself and wakes up with her hand still wrapped around Peter's and her head resting on her arm on the bed, the rest of her body apparently having slumped over in her seat. Between all of this, they haven't had much time to actually talk.

Now, she turns in her seat, putting the bandages and other things back into the kit given to them by the medics, but offers him a tired smile when she turns back. ]

You need to not move around so much, dude. Doctor's orders. I'm fine over here.

[ But don't worry, Peter. She can be convinced. ]

[ Peter's grin comes unbidden. He likes her. ]

Whenever Mr. Hock's done talkin' with you, maybe we'll discuss that further, huh?

[ Granted, he's pretty sure Hock's plans for her don't really involve her still breathing much longer afterward, but he blithely sidesteps that little matter.

He directs her here and again, keeping the barrel of his gun pressed into her back, and leads her into a small, brightly lit, undecorated room that screams interrogation more than it says guest quarters. There's a chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room, adorned with straps meant for keeping the prisoner in place. And Peter was not in any way surprised when Hock had initially shown him here.

"If you happen to capture her alive," the man had said as he opened the door, allowing Peter to peek in, "bring her here. No need for the restraints -- she'd simply slip out of them, anyway. Just be on your guard." ]

Take a seat, Miss Goto. I've got a call to make.

[ His voice is still practically frigid, and he pushes her forward roughly. There are cameras everywhere, after all. Hock's a paranoid motherfucker, and Peter has to respect that. He touches the side of his helmet, and with a few little gestures, he patches himself into the security network, tells whatever assholes are running maintenance on it to call their boss -- Star-Lord has a present for him. It's a few moments later that he receives acknowledgment and confirmation that the boss was on his way back from wherever the hell his trip had taken him. ]

Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Mr. Hock should be here in a while.

[ He follows after, claiming his spot at the wall opposite her. ]

Hoping by "plus one" you mean you, and that this isn't just your way of setting me up on a blind date.

[ At her answer, Peter unleashes his Puppy Dog Eyes -- half power, though. Full strength doesn't seem necessary. ]

You know, you could keep me from moving around if you got in here. And don't forget -- you got hurt, too. You should really have your leg elevated, so lying down would help.

Also, it's warm. Also, it's soft, on account of it being a bed. Also, I'm lonely.

OPEN POST;

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red ending i mean just fuck me up

omfg i'm sorry this is so long

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OPEN RP POST ① Pick a character ② Pick a prompt (or DIY) (shamelessly and selectively pilfered from bakerstreet's Random Scenario Meme) ③ Do the thing!. table code by betterdolphin