14133/Star-Lord In Distress

Star-Lord In Distress
Date of Scene:	14 February 2023
Location:	Times Square
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Peter Quill, America Chavez

---

Peter Quill has posed:
WANTED: PETER JASON QUILL aka STAR-LORD
Last Known Whereabouts: Terra
Bounty: 75000 Units

The holo-screen is checked once, twice, three times but the Sytcommarian member of Hot Sunday, Z'Pano. She narrows all three of her eyes as she looks up and out into the crowd of Terrans that are milling about in this here Square of Times. She groans, "It does not even look like a square. Terra is full of lies."

From her perch upon the side of a building above, the second member of Hot Sunday peers through a pair of binox to see if she can't spot their target. "Agreed." comes the annoyed voice of K'Powski, also a Sytommarian. "I hate this planet."

The third Syctommarian is busy looking in a hand mirror at herself. She's trying to get her tentacled hair together. "It's not all bad." Tur'Telle grins her sharp fangs at herself. "They have these interesting reflective surfaces that make me look even more beautiful."

The collective eye rolling from Z'Pano and K'Powski might as well be audible.

In said reflective surface of Tur'Telle's mirror is the bopping body of Peter Quill (aka STAR-LORD) as he wanders past without a care in the world and a pep in his dance step. He's all about jamming to the music coming through his headphones and just vibing through Times Square looking as though he's nothing more than a cosplayer out and about in the city right now. Clueless. Oblivious. Peter.

America Chavez has posed:
Clueless. Oblivious. Surprisingly rhythmic.

Peter Quill's just vibing, a state which America Chavez would wholeheartedly agree with on any other day, any other moment but this one.

Because on this day, at this moment, a soulful dance break has turned him into an obstacle between she and a medically inadvisable Times Square hot dog, the very reason that this faintly frowning, loudly flag-clad woman has decided to subject herself to the plastic cacophony that is the beating heart of the Big Apple.

She gives it a whole minute of folded-arm frowning at his back before finally reaching out to tap Peter's shoulder three firm times.

Peter Quill has posed:
"WHAT IS LOVE! BABY DON'T HURT ME! DON'T HURT ME! o/~"

Quill is in full performance mode when there is tapping on his shoulder. Which does get him to stop and spin around with a quickness that probably shouldn't be part of his collective nature. Still, though, the vibing is in full effect as he whirls around and those hands are still in the air for musical performance mode.

PING!

Z'Pano's third eye goes wide as her Bounty Tracker lights up with Quill's name highlighted. "Got him. Kell?" Z'Pano is already cocking her Photon Shotgun.

K'Powski zeroes in on the target via the binox to get a more focused picture of where he is. "Got him." She drops down from her perch and draws both of her twin Dilithium Daggers. "On me." And she leaps to start racing across the street. She's immediately followed by Z'Pano.

Tur'Telle rolls all three of her eyes as she reluctantly tosses aside the hand mirror and hoists up her giant, dripping, Sludgehammer. "We better be going for fangicures after this!" And she stomps off after them, her giant weapon dripping along the way.

All three of them are headed in Quill (and America's!) direction.

America Chavez has posed:
Peter is greeted by a bemused and unamused squint when he spins around. That, and a pop of red, white, and blue.

"You gonna be done with the hipster dance party any time soon, or is this stand gonna be closing for the day?"

-- and patience wrung through a growl filter.

Her back is turned to the trio from space; all she knows right now is that some guy is belting out that song from that one SNL sketch that spawned a cinematic universe four Earths over. That, and she is hungry for whatever the hell is in a hot dog here. Dark eyes slowly rove down, then up the length of Peter Quill, Dancing Machine; a sour look starts to crease her features--

"... fuck, this isn't--"

She glances left and right, looking for signs of cameras.

"-- I'm not signin' any Youtube releases, guy," she groans as her attention squares back on Peter.

Peter Quill has posed:
Quill looks pretty much as innocent as he can. He's not really hearing anything that America is saying. "What?!" Not that he has any cool headphones or anything. These are still some old school classics with the foam and everything. The volume is just maxed out and thanks to some Rocket Mods on his player, well, let's just say songs in the ear are louder than they appear. "Hold on!" Peter pauses the Zune and yanks down his headphones to try again. "What?"

The answer comes in the form of a Photon Shotgun blast that hits the cart right near them and Z'Pano standing tall on top of a taxi. "QUILL!" She seethes and starts lining up for some more cover fire.

Because in flips K'Powski from the side, both Dilithium Daggers shimmering in the light. She gives them a twirl as she bares those fangs. "Gotcha'. Finally."

Tur'Telle is last, as usual, as she stands nearby with her giant Sludgehammer held up and on her shoulder. She actually looks happy to see Peter. "Hey!" She's even waving.

America Chavez has posed:
"Can you,"

America gestures towards the cart, vaguely.

"like,"

The cart's blown away in a buckshot spray of pure light.

"What the fuck--?!"

Briefly, she allows herself the time to peer at Quill once again, this time sizing him up, just in case, just to be SURE... but, no.

HE doesn't look like the 'blow up a hot dog cart in a fit of pique' type; he's just some kind of oblivious nerd.

"Hide."

The clipped command is near-simultaneous with America vanishing from view, a patriotic smear stretching towards Z'Pano's perch at impossible speeds with every intention of attempting to strip the bounty hunter's weapon from her hands and turn it into scrap fluttering erratically in her wake.

Peter Quill has posed:
There's still a chance that Quill doesn't really know what's going on. He's often as clueless as he can be and that usually works out in his favor. Except, well, this time it's probably not going to be as helpfully oblivious as it normally would be.

America's word to him is enough that has him nodding along. "Right." And then he's off into the running and the diving behind something nice and big to make sure that there's nothing that's going to be able to hit him. "Wait..." Quill's look of confusion has him popping up and looking back in America's direction. "Why?!"

America's vanishing from view helps him find the answer as he watches that patriotic arrival near the bounty hunter known as Z'Pano! Speaking of...

"RRAGH!" Z'Pano snarls as the gun is snatched from her hands and shattered with too much ease. "Quill's got help." is the warning she sends through her comm unit towards the other two Bounty Hunters that are still in pursuit.

K'Powski twirls her daggers with a dangerous glare. "Miss us?"

Quill does a double take. "Ohhhhh!" He gives a dismissive wave in America's direction. "Nevermind! I see why now!" And then he's turning back to K'Powski with his hands up. "Uhhhhh. You know, uh, did you not get the transfer? I coulda' sworn I paid you lovely, lovely, girls." The Star-Lord Stall Tactic is in full effect.

Tur'Telle doesn't feel like there's anything to be in a hurry about. She's the muscle so she's definitely not going to allow Quill to get away. Not while she's got her Sludgehammer.

America Chavez has posed:
"I'm equal opportunity," America flatly notes upon solidifying a few feet in front of Z'Pano, rent metal sprinkling from her hands.

"Happy to help y'all, too," follows a few steps louder, the Traveler trying - albeit not THAT hard - to make sure K'Powski and Tur'Telle hear her too. This is for all their benefits, after all; equality means she's here to help everyone.

"Whatever this bullshit is? It's done."

It's a statement -- a command -- and it's plenty resolute, sure... but helpful? To a trio of alien bounty hunters with a space bandit in their sights?

Probably not.

And that's why America's prepared a presentation, a visual aid to help get her essential point across: a lightning-speed period stamped squarely on Z'Pano's jaw, punctuating and comprising what she hopes will be a succinct, easily absorbed lesson for the other two hunters.

"Take it or don't," follows as she glares over her shoulder amidst the followthrough.

"But either way, I'm in a real helpful mood today."

Peter Quill has posed:
Z'Pano is in the middle of reaching for another one of her weapons when she's stone cold ROCKED in the jaw like there's absolutely no hope of being a tomorrow. The power behind such a strike sending Z'Pano into the air and off into the distance a bit. There's a crashing as her body smacks into something stone and breaks.

"Really?" Tur'Telle rolls her eyes and holds up a single finger towards Quill. "Sec." And then she's hoisting up that Sludgehammer and taking some strong and speedy stomps in America's direction as she rears back with a mighty swing of that Sludgehammer!

Quill keeps his hands where K'Powski can see them but still manages to give a bit of a nod towards the direction where all the action is happening. "You uh, might want to give her a hand. I think she might be a little outmatched."

K'Powski struggles with looking back and forth. She leans in to put one of those Daggers to Peter's throat. "Don't..."

Quill finishes the sentence for her. "Move? Yeah, no, wouldn't dream of it." Quill lies. Obviously.

Another glare from K'Powski before she shoves away from Quill and takes a chance at flinging one of those daggers in America's direction with a dedicated snarl!

America Chavez has posed:
Okay, so they need another lesson.

Or two.

Or--

However much teaching it takes, America is here to help. Lesson #1 was 'Fuck Off Because I'm Stronger Than You'. Lesson #2...?

Lesson #2 entails jetting just a few feet off the ground at many, many, many times the velocity necessary to go from A to B in a timely fashion. This places her directly in the Slugehammer's descending arc, which she promptly meets with her forearm. The first wave of effects are near-instantaneous: violent ripples course through the Sludgehammer's impossibly dense, dangerously concealed head. It pulses, throbs, wobbles madly in in the grip of whatever extraterrestrial containment solution's responsible for its coherent form; occasionally, its dark depths flare with energy tendrils as that structural field's integrity is tested again and again over what may well feel like an eternal tableau of viscous impact.

Feels like.

Just seconds later, the tidal exchange of kinetic energy from America through the Sludgehammer and back again falls irrevocably out of balance and against the Traveler's favor. A climactic undulation slams into America's upper body and spikes her -- finally -- into the ground. Through the ground, her body digging a trench dozens of feet deep in a matter of moments. The rumbling earth eventually quiets as her descent draws down, leaving a solemn monument to hubris bored through asphalt and conc--

The earth trembles. Dirt tumbles down the ragged channel. Crumbling rock skitters into darkness.

"Hey," rises from the depths, flat and low-- just loud enough to make it to the surface.

"I got all day. YOU don't, but me--"

As soon as she shows her face, America's interrupted by a flying dagger courtesy of K'Powski.

"All day," she finishes, lowering her freshly caught blade.

This is Lesson #2: 'Seriously, I'm Tougher Too'.

Caked with dirt, America hauls herself free. Once both boots are on the pavements, she flicks K'Powski's knife right back to her, an underhand throw with no ulterior motive whatsoever beyond returning the weapon to its owner.

"You ready to tell me what your beef is, then immediately let it go, or nah...?"

Peter Quill has posed:
Staring. Lots of staring. From the random passer-bys to Star-Lord to even the great and powerful Sytcommarians that have decided to come down here and start some trouble. Well, try to collect a bounty. It's kind of the same thing to be perfectly honest.

The Sytcommarian Collective seem to have taken to collecting themselves into a huddle so that they can prepare to take America on it looks like. Z'Pano has limped back over. Tur'Telle is trying to figure out why her Sludgehammer has a dent in it now. And K'Powski catches the blade as it comes sailing back to her, she even gives an impressed smirk.

Z'Pano points at the cowering Quill. "We came for him. He is wanted in a few sectors for various crimes."

"And for not calling us back." adds Tur'Telle!

Both Z'Pano and K'Powski roll their eyes. "We do not wish to destroy this planet but we shall if we must."

It is at this point that Quill manages to stumble is way towards America, his hands still up in the air, to look as innocent as possible. "I'm telling you right now, I've never seen these... women before in my life." It's an obvious lie. "If you get me outta' this, I can transfer you a thousand units. Pronto."

Hopefully, this works since none of the Sytcommarians said how much the bounty's worth.

America Chavez has posed:
"You really think that's the kinda negotiation this is?"

America's jacket sleeves strain against the adamantine muscle shifting just beneath them as she folds her arms. Her gaze is locked on Tur'Telle as she approaches the huddle at a casual stroll, threatening only in that the Sytcommarians have already seen what she's capable of without getting worked up; whether they're eager for a repeat or not is out of her hands.

"Still?"

She lets the question hang in the air between them while she closes in, hoping to get within conversation distance of the trio.

"What's the bounty?"