8857/Peter Flew Like The Hero He Is.

Peter Flew Like The Hero He Is.
Date of Scene:	29 November 2021
Location:	Cockpit - Milano
Synopsis:	Peter Flies Good. Gamora Gets Frustrated. Richard Tows Everyone. Yondu Smooth Talks. Drax Poops.
Cast of Characters:	Gamora, Peter Quill, Richard Rider, Yondu Udonta

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Gamora has posed:
    "We wouldn't be in this mess if you weren't so cheap." Gamora says punctuating her outburst with a growl from the back of her throat. An exaggerated sigh as she starts to turn around and lift out of her seat in Peter's direction. Maybe she wants to try and scare him with the threat of physical aggression, but she quickly storms past on her way towards the shared community space on the ship. A glorified table with barely any hardware around it to handle cooking. It's a little cramped, but it's designed to hold more people than this, so it's not really that bad. The Milano however could use some love and care to make it less 'locker room-y'.

    Gamora stops on the steps down into the hold and looks over her shoulder out the view windows. She COULD pay Peter a compliment on his flying, but again, the cheap ass saved their hides, and ended up putting them BACK into trouble by not filling the tank full. Again.

Peter Quill has posed:
Peter is strapped in via crash webbings to the Captain chair of the Milano. They are adrift now, but they ran off the bad guys after taking out several of them with some fancy flying and creative maneuvers. "Me?!" He snaps back to Gamora. "I told you to tag the red missiles! Those are the ones that the Milano computer struggles to track. It's not my fault they have newer targeting systems than we do tracking systems... This stuff costs an arm and a leg, you know?" He says as she gets up and storms off.

Peter reaches for and sends out another distress wave. "This is the Uncle Phil requesting emergency pick up at..." He rattles off the coordinates, not using the ship's real name incase there are bounty hunters around...

"Anyone alive out there?" He asks over the comms.

Richard Rider has posed:
The stillness of space is interrupted by an abrupt warping of the cosmic fabric. The tapestry of stars shimmers and bends, a spark of blue light manifests first as a single mote then wrapping expands into a swirling disc. From the center most point, another flash of light heralds the arrival of a being in gold and blue armor, the icon of a red starburst centered upon its helmet.

Only the freshest bodies in space wouldn't recognize the famous or infamous aesthetic of the Nova Corp. Xandar's finest had answered the call for the glorious feat of... "Wait, you want me to do what? Some idiot can't keep gas in the tank, and you called me in?"

Richard nods in the vacuum of space as he receives further communication from Xandar, "Fine. Goodwill. understood."

Changing the frequency of his helmet to answer the hail, "Uncle Phil, this is Richard Rider, Centurion of the Nova Corp. Please provide a Sit-Rep, and we will provide assistance."

Gamora has posed:
    "I did tag the red missiles. I tagged all the missiles that I could see, and that the computer could see." Gamora says, her tone flat, her teeth clenched, as she squeezes her fist around one of the handholds built into the frame of the ship. Not hard enough to reshape the metal, but tight.

    Why must they fight like this. Why is every day a fight on this ship? Gamora closes her eyes for a moment as Peter sends out another distress call.

    Taking a step down the steps, bending her head forward to avoid the decking, Gamora stops again, and turns back to step into the cockpit. "Did he say Nova Corp?" Followed by her staring at Peter in disbelieve. "You don't have any contraband on this ship this time, do you?" Long pause "Do, you?"

Yondu Udonta has posed:
"He said Nova Corps, there is definitely contraband on this ship, and I definitely ain't gonna be the one they collar for it." Yondu's in an unoccupied bridge seat with one foot kicked up on the console in front of him. He sports an air of great un-concern, picking his fingernails with a short blade in his hands.

"I'd also like to take this time to remind y'all that you did, in fact, have this discussion about the missile systems, and Quill did in fact remind you about them," Yondu tells Gamora. He looks up and grins toothily. "Mind, that was 'cause he lost them credits he was gonna spend on updatin' the targetin' computer. What was her name again, Quill? The one with all the mouths an' what not?"

Yondu doesn't wait for a response, leaning sideways to jab the tip of his knife into the 'open frequencies' button. "Ahoy there, Nova Corps, we are indeed stranded, but if y'all can wait... three, four minutes, there's a homicide I'd very much like t' see perpetrated on board this vessel," he explains in his whistling, cracked voice.

Peter Quill has posed:
Peter hears the response from Nova and feels a sigh of relief about to escape his lips before Gamora speaks up, and then Yondu 'helps'. He shoots a look over at the blue man to his right and looks concerned at him. The response he gives Nova has Peter reaching over to bat at the knife.
5r "Stop... /helping/!" Peter says to Yondu in a frustrated sort of way.

Quill jams the com button down then.<"Uh yeah, hi, sorry about that. We are outta fuel and our backup cells got dumped to use as makeshift bombs to get some pirates off our tail. We could really use some help out here though. That's the sitrep."> He sends out as he takes off his crash webbing and reaches a hand up to flip a button on the console to get some cool air flowing down over him.

"I got no contraband on board. I don't know about the others though... they hide stuff in weird places." He mutters that last part.

Richard Rider has posed:
Richard flies a cursory course around the Milano, giving the ship a visual scan, while his helmet relays some additional information not readily available to his senses. The humanoid figure leaves a trail of blue plasma in his wake. Visible via window or view screen, Rich tries to keep a professional smile though its mildly strained.

"I'm going to hazard a guess that you are about to murder the numb-nuts that left you stranded out in space. Think you could spare me the paper work by downgrading to assault and telling me... he, she, they forgot to buckle up during a high-g acceleration?" Rich pleads with a hint of New Yorker accent.

"Let me do you a solid. What's your preferred port of call? I'll tow you through hyperspace and coast you in pretty... That should give you at least a few minutes to prepare for..." The New Yorker accent fades into something quintessential paramilitary Nova Corp. "... Inspection."

Gamora has posed:
    "They're going to 'collar' all of us." Gamora explains to Yondu, frustrated, and now starting to panic. She didn't want to go back to prison so soon. It's been, she looks up as she tries to count the weeks since their last lock up, not long enough she decides.

    "If anyone's getting murdered it'll be both of you for being selfish jerks." Gamora threatens with a her eyes looking to Peter as he turns his air conditioning on and she gets the notion that at least someone on this ship is comfortable. Heaven knows where the other three boys are. At least they're not here making things worse. It's the small things in this life that she has to be grateful for, because there are no big things. It's constant work on this ship.

    Stepping forward into the cabin, Gamora crosses her arms below her chest and gives Peter her most deadpan look before she raises her hands and invites him to speak. "You're the captain... captain. Get us out of this mess." Arms crossed again, daring him to somehow solve this situation.

Yondu Udonta has posed:
Yondu looks at Peter as well, but holds his hands aloft as if absolving himself of participation in the current crisis. "Like the nice lady said, Quill, yer the captain. I'm just a citizen who took an unlucky risk on a smugglin' craft," he remarks.

"Th' hell's my name, anyway, uh..." Yondu digs in his coat pockets and comes up with an ID chit that glimmers to life with a touch of his fingertips.

"Tarlane Toozer of the Kree Merchant's Consortium," he reads aloud.

Yondu frowns and flips the ID back and forth. "The hell kinda stupid name is that...?"

Peter Quill has posed:
"Why did he say 'inspection' like that..?" Peter mutters with a bit of nervousness on his tone.

He snaps out of it as he hears one of them over his shoulder, then the other over the other shoulder. "Captain is only as good as his crew! You guys give me suggestions, I choose the one that sucks the least balls.. which admittedly is always my idea anyway..."

Peter hops up from the Captain's chair and points at Yondu. "Tarlane, get on the horn and tell him what port we need to go to. One that doesn't have anyone there who wants us dead!" Quill says anxiously as he rushes past Gamora, almost bumping in to her... aggression!

He goes back further in the ship. "I know where--" He is cut off as he drops down the ladder in to his bunk room and then vanishes in to the ship's interior!

Did he just go hide in his room? Maybe...

Richard Rider has posed:
Rich taps the side of his helmet. "Hello? Do you copy? Is this thing on?"

The centurion comes around to the prow of the Milano and hovers in space, his arms crossing over his chest. Small vents of plasma jettison from his sides, stabilizing his position relative to the other ship.

"Please do not murder anyone on my shift, no matter how deserving they might be." He floats closer to the cockpit glass and reaches up with a golden gauntlet.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

He points at his helmet and mouths, <Can you hear me?>

Gamora has posed:
    Gamora looks out the window as Richard comes around back into view and the woman shakes her head and pantomimes with a hand to her ear that she can't hear the man while saying in the cabin, "That should buy us a few seconds." And shrugging exaggeratedly. "PETER!" She shouts, turning around to look away from the Nova and frowning at the lack of Peter. She's about to leave the parenting to Yondu, but he's already been instructed on what to do. He's in charge of dealing with the Nova.

    "PETER! Get back here!" She snarls, stepping down the steps two at a time and following Quill to his room. "You're on a space ship, you can't run away from this!"

Yondu Udonta has posed:
Yondu jabs a finger onto the console button with one hand, and with the other waves Gamora to go chase after Peter. "I didn't say murder, I said, hom-i-cide," Yondu repeats, leaning into the microphone. "Homicide can be considered justifiable, and by the Sky Gods of Indigaar, the little lady here has some wholly justifiable reasons fer it."

He flips the 'active mike' switch and sits back in his chair, insolently kicking boots up onto the console again. "Meanwhile there, son, I'm gonna need you to confirm yer identity as a Nova Corps agent!" he says. "You know how it is. Out here, ain't no one you can really trust. Especially someone showing up to offer aid to a limpin' ship."

He pulls a drawer open and roots around a pile of phony ship codes illegally downloaded into portable drives. One is extracted and pushed into the data receptacle port.

"This is the last good code I have for the Nova Corps, so please go ahead and con-firm that you're who you say you are. 'fore we have to blast you out of the sky. Just to be safe, mind," he says almost apologetically.

The Uncle Phil spits out a heinously complex transcription protocol at Richard, filled with dead space and superfluous code. The handshake protocols cut in and out while the ship tries to establish Richard's identity.

An annoying, but effective, delaying tactic.

Peter Quill has posed:
Peter is down in his heavily decorated room throwing stuff around when Gamora joins him. "I'm not running away!" He says, tossing aside his Back to the Future 2 Nike's that he loves dearly, so he must be frantic! "We gotta dump stuff, right?" He asks as he comes up then from under his bunk with a box in his hands as he looks face to face with the green lady.

"Look." He says in a serious tone to her, as he can hear Yondu up above through the hatch talking. "I got you a gift..." He tells Gamora, as he opens the box.

Inside the box is a pair of ornate bracelets that are bejeweled and have spinning clouds of light that streak through them. They look expensive. "I won these in a fair contest of wits. They're the arm bands of a Princess who was murdered like a hundred galactic years ago... The people I won these from, I think they're the ones who were after us. But..." He looks up at the hatch, then back to Gamora.

"I think these are stolen. By which, I mean to say... they're definitely stolen. Notbyme! By the people I /won/ them from... you see."

He moves to close the box lid. "So we definitely have to shoot them out in to space now." And he tries to walk past her.

Richard Rider has posed:
"Right... Look, I'll be the first one to admit I an not a scholar of intergalactic law. This is why when I encounter something suspicious, I escort it politely to Xandar and let the experts sort out the intricacies of the law." Rich sighs into the communication.

"You are really asking me to confirm my identity as a Centurion of the Nova Corp when I just arrived here via hyperspace portal and floating around space on jets of Nova Force?" He taps the cockpit in mild irritation.

"Either, I'm a Centurion of the Nova Corp... or I'm Carol Danvers. She has a better figure them me, so I think that limits your options." Rich rolls his eyes in his helmet.

Sure, Yondu's tactic is an ingenious one. There is one small hang up. The code is received by a connection to the sub-routine Worldmind itself. Despite the digital gynmastics required, the code is quickly digested and a confirmation signal is re-broadcasted to confirm the identity of Rich Rider, Centurion of the Nova Corp. Former Nova Prime. Origin Earth.

Gamora has posed:
    Gamora stands in Peter's doorway, refusing to enter the so called 'love den'. The lone woman aboard crosses her arms again, shoulder pressed into the frame for support, she leans forward to look at the offered gift, her mouth dropping open at the beauty and thoughtfulness of such a gift and then she learns they're going to become intragalactic debris for a trillion eons until some gravity well scoops them up and converts them back into base particles. Such is the fate of things lost adrift.

    Not exactly one for jewelry, she does feel a tinge of sorrow at the loss, but the idea of having a gift given to her that was a sort of tether to the hatefulness of her father, that something could be freely given without strings attached isn't lost on the warrior, but it is Quill, it's easy to guess what he wants.

    "How often have you seen me wear jewelry Peter?" Gamora asks, "Plus they're going to see you dump it. They're not stupid." Rolling her eyes and turning away to let Peter continue to panic as that does put a smirk on her face.

Yondu Udonta has posed:
Yondu looks over at the readout as the console emits a friendly looking 'beep' along with a soft, pulsing blue light. Friendship acknowledged! This guy is definitely Nova Corps and his handshake protocols definitely work.

The blue-skinned Centaurian reaches under the console to pull a loose panel open. Two wires are pulled and plugged into different data ports, and he licks his thumb before pinching two other connectors together. There's a sizzle of a circuit forming and Yondu hisses in pain, shaking out a small, blackened mark on his thumb and forefinger.

The ship's IFF stops blinking a friendly blue and becomes an angry, hostile red.

"Woah, don't know who this fellah Carol Danvers is," Yondu says, "but my systems tell me your authenticators are out of date. Now I won't look a gift horse in the mouth, but if I can't be absolutely certain about yer identity, we'll have to get a tow back to *my* friendly port-of-call," Yondu says. "Won't do for the Nova Corps' prime soldier to kidnap a Kree citizen and haul him to Xandar, would it? The powers-that-be might take that as some kinda... war crime, I think. One second."

Yondu switches off the comm unit for a moment and looks over his shoulder. "QUILL! GET YOUR ASS UP HERE BOY, I CAN ONLY TAP DANCE SO LONG!" he bellows.

The comm switches on again. "OKay, you still there? We'll take a haul to Plookin III, that's the nearest neutral planet."

Peter Quill has posed:
Peter gives Gamora a quick look over. "I just ... assumed you didn't really have any. So I thought I'd risk life and limb to get you these." He says all dramatically and mopey to play up the emotions, while they stand in the doorway to his bunk room. He looks back to the hatch at the top of his bunk that leads up to the back of the cockpit. "I'm on my way, Tarlane!" He shouts back. "Just keep that guy up there!" He adds, unaware that Yondu has potentially got them going to a port that won't get their ship inspected.

He looks back to Gamora. "I'll make this up to you. I swear it." He says in a continued dramaticly sappy way.

"Now then, time to dump." He turns then and steps toward the hatch in to the bathroom only to find it locked. "What the hell?" Peter asks as he leans toward the door. "Come on! I need to use the toi--"

The door opens and Peter is face to face with Drax's manly muscled chest.

Drax stares down at him. "Hello, Peter." He says in a dry tone.

Peter quickly leans back then. "Drax." He says calmly to the man who steps out of the way.

"It is all yours." Drax says as he walks out of the restroom and in to the rest of the ship. "Gamora." He says as he goes past her too.

Peter exhales and then rushes in to the restroom only to shriek once he's inside. "What the hell is that smell?!?!" He shouts like a little child.

Richard Rider has posed:
"Uncle Phil... This is a courtesy call. Stop yanking my chain. Its impossible for my -authenticators- to be out of date." Rich takes a deep breath and reaches a hand to the crest of his helmet in a gesture of exasperation.

"My friend... I didn't come out here to fish... but you are twisting and turning like you are on the end of a hook. I'm a little surprised as a Kree citizen you aren't aware of 'Captain Marvel' but maybe it's an Earth thing." The hand moves from his forehead to rub the back of his helmet.

"You aren't wrong about the optics of a Centurion kidnapping a Kree citizen." His voice grows low, "Do -NOT- power up your weapon systems. Plookin III it is."

Rich makes a one-eighty degree turn as an aura of energy begins to radiate from his limbs. Tendrils of energy crackle through his hands before he lurches his arms forward to burrow a tunnel through time and space.

Similar to his arrival, the wormhole begins as a single mote of blue energy then rapidly expands into a swirling torrent.

"Please keep your hands inside the spaceship at all times and stay away from the edges of the hyperspace portal. This will be a short flight. Beverage and snack service is suspended, but please check out our top quality Xandarian good in your local market of choices. Thank you for flying, Nova Corp." Despite the humor of the dialogue, its clear that the Centurion is on the edge of being pissed, as he growls out each phrase in a resentful tone.

Gamora has posed:
    "Drax." Gamora says in greeting to Drax after he steps out and she is already standing near the door with a hand pinching her nose. She knows better. "Damnit Peter. Just give me the stupid bracelets." And with that she tries to snatch the box out of the captains hands, and moving him away from the toilet at the same time. "Get up there and help Yondu. That man can be quick witted, but can only improv for so long before he gets himself or any of us spaced. Again."

    Gamora gives Peter's back a shove towards the steps back up to the cockpit. "I'll go and find Rocket, and make sure he's not planning on trying to blow this Nova up." She's contributing, but if it's not with a sword, she's not exactly the most helpful woman in the galaxy. Plus scanning her would certainly set off some red flags for the Nova Corp. "When did they start to offer drink services?" She asks idly while moving deeper into the crew quarters, looking for the little furry guardian.

Yondu Udonta has posed:
"Oh sure, I didn't mean to cast any, uh, 'aspersions' on your character," Yondu soothes Richard. "But I gotta do things the right way, 'cause the wrong way is all politics and intergalactic incidents. You know how it is. But I think we can extend you a little trust," he adds. "You seem like a decent sort, and I'm happy to, uh, do my part in keepin' the peace."

Yondu's tone is -just- shy of being condescending, but it's supercilious enough to be believable, too. "Sure am glad you Nova Corps folks are around though, makes a merchant like myself feel better about being all the way out in these rural hyperspace lanes. But you soldier types, you probably don't do much in the way of buying and selling. Everything is issued, right?"

Yondu spots Richard flying ahead of the ship and pulling the vessel into a bow wave as they enter hyperspace. "You know, it reminds me of this fellah I knew back fifteen years ago, on the far edge of the Shi'ar Empire..."

Yondu isn't rushing his words by any means, but he's keeping up just enough of a pace that it's impossible to politely get a word in edgewise.

Peter Quill has posed:
Peter has his Metalica shirt pulled up over his nose as he's about to dump the box of priceless Princess bracelets in to the toilet when Gamora snatches the box from him. He looks up at her with shock as his collar pops off his nose back down to his chest, but then just scrunches up his face a second later as the stench hits him again.

The 'dump' button is slammed as Peter steps out of the refresher and heads back to the ladder in his bunk. "So be it! Your gonna look great them!" He says back to her as he starts up the ladder again.

Once back up in the cockpit, Peter is tucking his shirt in to his pants as he approaches Yondu and claps him solidly on the shoulder. "Good job, Tartar Sauce." He tells the blue skinned man before dropping back down in the Captain's chair.

Over the comms now Peter chimes in then. <"Hello, Nova. Captain here. Had a bit of a bowel emergency. My gut's been actin' up lately. We really appreciate your help here though.">

Richard Rider has posed:
After a quick jaunt via Hyperspace portal, the Centurion has rapidly relocated the Milano to it's chosen point of call. It may have been set in record time. It's quite possible that Rich channeled just a little extra Nova Force to give Yondu less time to fill with his long yarn spinning.

<"You know. It would have been terrible if my faulty systems identified you as a Kree-Nova war criminal. Tragic accident."> Rich fires a verbal warning over the bow to Yondu, but its all banter. It's how the game is played.

<"Greetings, Captain. Happy to help. I think... TMI on your gastro concerns."> Arriving in Plookin III space, the Centurion turns around once more to face the cockpit. His head tilts to the side, and he pushes up against the cockpit glass.

<"Is that a Metallica shirt? Who's your favorite bassist? If you don't say Clifford Lee Burton. I'm vaporizing your ship."> Rich fanboys for a moment.

Gamora has posed:
    "Rocket!?" Is heard down in the -ahem- bowels of the ship as Gamora searches around for the wildest card on board. "I swear if that fuzzball gets us killed. I'll kill him." Gamora sighs to herself, stepping lightly, quietly and quickly through the ship, but not seeing him in the cockpit, or in the room full of bark on the floors, she surmises he's in the cargo hold, listening to the whole converstation through his transponder.

    Showing back up in the cockpit, Gamora leans over to whisper into Quill's ear before she stands back up straight, in the 'aisle' between the two banks of seats, hands resting on the backs as she looks out to the new sector of space, "Plookin III?" She repeats, looking to Yondu and motions out towards the Nova and she squints her eyes at his odd threat before glaring at Peter before looking blankly into space "I'm going to die because of a shirt."

Yondu Udonta has posed:
"Hooh-eyy," Yondu whistles. "I'll be damned if it's not another Terran. You people multiply faster than vorlocks," he informs Quill.

The Centaurian also gets to his feet and stands in a location where he's *just* out of Richard's line of sight. Not... hiding, per se, but definitely making it difficult to get anything like a facial features scan on him.

He switches off the comm unit. "Now I done bluffed you a way outta here. I ain't no more happy about puttin down on Plookin than anyone else, but it was either that or a Xandar holdin' cell," he mutters at the other two in a low voice. "So you kids figure out how to get us safely on planet. One of you seduce him, the other one talk about inedible Kree food. I don't care."

He steps towards the aft of the cockpit and descends the steps. "I'm gonna go make sure that trigger-happy rodent of yours ain't gonna decide a pre-emptive strike's in order."

Peter Quill has posed:
Peter looks down at his shirt before back up and over at Yondu. With the comms off, Peter chimes up to the blue man as he starts to head back aft. "Hey, you did great. I'll make this run up to you, lots and lots of profit. Right?" He calls after the older man before he looks back to the console and reaches for the comm switch again.

<"You're damn right its a Metalica shirt."> He says back to the Nova. <"Cliffy is Classic. But I grew up with Newsted... Damn, its cool to find another Earthling out here. What are the odds?!" Peter says all excitedly, as his eyes glance down at the console. "Richard... wha---" He glosses over then as he turns to look at Gamora and points at the console. "This guy's name is Dick Rider!" He tells her as he starts to laugh.

Yeah, he forgot to turn the comms off too.

Gamora has posed:
    Gamora steps aside when Yondu gets up, and gives him a look, turning to speak down to him as he descends the stairs, "I couldn't find him in the crew quarters. I'd guess he's in the cargo hold, or ... somewhere more dangerous." Turning to plop herself down into the communications and targetting chair, Gamora takes her usual spot, fingers reaching out to pull the view screen into her immediate line of sight and her other hand dancing across the touch screen controls bringing up the systems to get a read on the Nova's energy signature, but keeping the weapons unpowered.

    Just in case.

     Looking up to Peter she rolls her eyes, "I thought his name was Richard Rider..." Earth customs make no sense. "Terrans." She says as she rolls her eyes and looks back out to the window and waits to see what Richard does with Quill's retort about ... other Terrans.

Richard Rider has posed:
<"I saw them in their 08 tour. Amazing line up. Apocalyptica, The Sword, Ozzy Osbourne. Robert Trujillo isn't bad. Though I wish I could go back in time to see Burton..."> Rich started to reply and then he is immediately brought back to high school. The years of torment from a terribly chosen name by his parents.

Rich is dead silent for a moment then radios, <"Yea, another Earthling... Great job keeping up our stereotype. I'm sure a jackass like you flying around space is only setting us back... a few millennia in diplomatic relations with the rest of the Universe.">

The Nova Centurion floats backwards away from the Milano then promptly slaps his bicep and extends the middle finger. <"Enjoy your stay on Plookin III, Dick Rider out.">

In a blinding flash of light, Rich accelerates rapidly toward the speed of light to conduct a patrol of the neutral territory.

Peter Quill has posed:
Peter keeps laughing until he hears the comms are still open. "Shit." He says then as he leans forward about to try and break in on Rich's response before the man flips them the bird and shoots off. "Wait!" Peter says. "I'll buy you some drinks-- and.... he's gone."

Quill flips the comms off and flops back in his chair. "I didn't mean to insult him, that name is effing awesome." He says then as he reaches up to turn the cooler fan off cause he's cold now.

"Well. At least I got us here." Peter says then as he looks down at the readouts in front of them.