Vol. 9
He woke up to the sound of muffled screaming. Not loud, nothing near loud enough to wake the entire sleeping pile. It was just a subtle sound echoing down the hall. He heard another the moment his eyes opened, and he jerked up.
It sounded like Gamora.
He shoved an arm off him and made to follow the sound. His head spun as he stood, dizzy and uncoordinated. Like when he’d been starved in the past, but no hunger came along with it, no wanting to tear into the nearest person. At the moment he was almost thankful for that, wanting to eat would be more distracting than not being able to is. But his normal strength would be nice right now. He shoved those thoughts from his mind and tried to focus on the task.
He made it to the room they had trapped her in, following the sounds of laughter and struggling. They were holding her against a wall. Two men holding her back by each arm, a whole room of people ready to tackle her if she managed to get away- a knife held to her throat. Peter thought for a second that this was entirely dishonorable of them. Fifteen versus one was unfair, but then he remembered who they were dealing with. Gamora probably could have taken them all out with just a scrap of cloth and a bit of determination. They must have grabbed her while she slept.
The knife inched closer to her neck. The big guy was getting ready for the killing blow, as he spouted some monologue that Peter couldn’t bother to listen to. Peter felt the same churning anger in his gut, dampened under layers of drugs but fighting its way up. Like the little bubbles that form in a pot of water just before it starts boiling.
His body still felt loose and clumsy, but he tensed. Ready to strike out. In this situation, when all weapons were taken and he was battling a bigger guy, he’d usually use his teeth or his kagune. But that wasn’t an option. He’d have to rely on his dampened strength. If he snapped the neck of the big guy while his back was turned he could take his knife and ward off the guys holding back Gamora. After that, she’d hopefully be able to defend the both of them and they could hide in another cell.
With the plan ready he took a single step forward, nearly into view of the group surrounding Gamera, and he felt a tug on his pant leg. He froze, sluggish mind trying to identify the threat as he looked down. It was the raccoon. Rocket.
In the moment he took to pause, Gamora shook off both the people holding her. Simultaneously stealing their knives and directing them at the two bigger threats. Half the onlookers in the room ran away. Peter relaxed. She had it handled, he could just watch from the shadows and make sure she got out safe and sound, then return to his cell. He was grateful Rocket had slowed him down. This way he wouldn’t have to worry about making enemies with whatever gang ran this prison this way.
Then the big guy sprang forward, grabbing Gamora by the neck and pushing her against the wall. Gamora was good, but brute strength paired with rage was a hard thing to go up against, no matter how much training you had. Peter knew, he’d been that brute strength before.
He had her pinned, and Peter acted before his mind even processed that he had. One second Rocket was trying to hold him back, and the next he was in the room trying to talk him down. He was surprised, normally when his body acted on its own, it involved a lot of blood and fresh meat.
“Hey, hey, hey,” He tried to think as he got the guy's attention, the remaining half of their audience looked at Peter and paled. Making their way out of the room as quickly as possible, “If you really want to kill Ronan, this isn’t the way to go about it,” Okay, that was a good start, but what next?
“Arn’t you the creature this wench tried to kill?” He said, and Peter paused at that. He was right. Normally Peter wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about protecting someone (especially someone who tried to kill him) unless they were a Ravager, and even then he wouldn’t go too far out of his way for it. The only people he had ever put his life on the line for were Yondu and Kraglin, the people who raised him and fed him consistently. He suspected his ghoul instincts had a part to play in that. Dampening his empathy for anything that he considered food, keeping him safe from pesky things like ‘getting too attached’ until they became more useful alive then as food. So why was he doing all this for her?
The drug. It had to be a side effect of that stupid drug. Maybe it didn’t dull just his abilities, but his mentality as well. Maybe he wanted to protect this strange group cause they were the first people he wasn’t constantly wondering subconsciously how best to sauté (not that Peter usually cooked his food, it was just a phrase he liked to use). Maybe he saw them as equals instead of a to-go bag, just as he saw Yondu and Kraglin? Them instantly ranking as ‘very important people’ because he could actually see them as people. If that was true, what would he think of them after the drug wore off?
He could think about that later, for now he had to deal with the knife.
“Maybe, but the whole galaxies after me, I don’t hold it against her,” Peter smirked, “Tons of people, cops and ladies alike, want a piece of me.”
“Hopefully you don’t take pieces back,” He heard Rocket mumble behind him, and he sent the vermin a glare. When he looked back to Drax, he seemed particularly angry. Peter back tracked.
“I see you don’t care. Okay… But get this, she betrayed Ronan. So she can bring you to him,” He nodded at Gamora, “And that’s when you,” He slid his finger against his own throat.
“Why would I put my finger against this throat?” Drax furrowed his brow.
“What?” Maybe the drug was just making his mind work to slowly to figure out the confusion… “Oh, no- it’s just a symbol. For you, cutting his throat.”
“I would not slice his throat, I would cut his head clean off,” Drax emphasized. Peter assumed in this situation he would usually feel annoyed. A little angry, there was even a chance those emotions would evolve into hunger. Usually, he had enough self-control to fight that off before it got far, but it was strange that he didn’t even have to try. He only felt endearment, like he was watching a puppy get confused over a squeaker toy. It seemed the drug was doing wonders for his ability to garner first impressions of people when he wasn’t distracted by hunger. Now everyone, not only the people he had been brought to jail with, seemed like equals and not an entree. That would probably be annoying later.
“I like how you think, the bloodier the better, am I right?” Peter chuckled awkwardly, still holding up his hands in a calming gesture, “So do you want to team up? Let my friend go, so she can lead us to Ronan?”
Drax held her for a moment longer, Peter getting ready to lunge for the knife, and then he let her go.
“I like your knife, I’m keeping it,” He said to the man in the corner, then sauntered out of the room.