MARVEL'S GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY

IN THE CROSSHAIRS

Peter Quill stirred, feeling his body sway uncomfortably as he regained consciousness. His head ached, and his wrists burned from the bindings that held him tight. He blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights above, eyes adjusting to the sharp brightness. He wasn’t on the Milano; he was strapped into a rickety metal chair inside a dimly lit, cluttered room that smelled like oil, metal, and burnt circuits.

“Ah, the Star Lord awakens!” Rocket’s snarky voice cut through the haze.

Peter squinted, trying to make out the shape in front of him. Rocket stood at a small console, jabbing at buttons and typing in commands. Groot was nearby, looming in the corner like a silent, leafy sentinel.

“Wh-where am I?” Peter mumbled, struggling against the bindings.

“Somewhere safe enough that you won’t be prancin’ off to who knows where,” Rocket replied, not looking up from his work.

“What the hell, Rocket? What’s the big idea?” Peter’s voice was rough with irritation, though it didn’t sound quite as intimidating as he’d hoped. “Let me out of here, or I swear I’ll—”

Rocket finally looked up, crossing his furry arms. “You’ll what? Be annoyin’? Do that weird thing where you start singin’ out of nowhere? Please, spare me, Quill.”

Peter’s head was still spinning, but bits and pieces of their earlier scuffle came back to him. He remembered Rocket tasing him, Groot’s towering frame, and something about a million credits. Right, the bounty. Apparently, he had a price on his head, and Rocket and Groot intended to cash in.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Look, you got me fair and square. So what now? You gonna hand me over to the Nova Corps, or is this some kind of… space raccoon extortion?”

Rocket’s face twisted. “First off, don’t call me a raccoon, alright? And second, as much as I’d love to drop you off for the payday, I’m startin’ to think you might actually know somethin’ useful.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “Useful for what?”

Rocket gave him a hard look. “The Infinity Stones.”

A jolt of fear struck Peter, though he tried to keep it off his face. He’d heard rumors—whispers in the dark corners of the universe—about the Stones, the ancient artifacts of unimaginable power. But he’d also heard tales of the ones seeking them, like Ronan and Thanos. And if Thanos was involved… well, that was bad news for everyone.

“Why do you care about the Stones?” Peter asked, his tone carefully neutral.

“Because the guy who’s after you? Yeah, he’s after them too,” Rocket said, a hint of anger in his voice. “And if we don’t stop him, it’s not just gonna be you with a bounty on your head. It’s gonna be anyone who so much as breathes in his way.”

Peter let that sink in, his mind racing. He’d done some dangerous jobs before, but this felt different. And Rocket didn’t seem like the type to worry about much besides himself and his tree companion. If he was genuinely concerned about Thanos, then things were worse than he’d realized.

“Look, we can work something out, Rocket,” Peter said, his voice earnest. “If Thanos is after me, then maybe we have a common enemy. You don’t want to mess with him, trust me.”

Rocket narrowed his eyes. “Trust you? Yeah, sure. Look, buddy, you’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out the airlock. But here’s the deal—I need intel on Thanos, and I need someone with half a brain to get me in close enough to take him down. And you, ‘Star Lord,’ are gonna help me do that.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Rocket cut him off.

“Listen, Quill. You got two choices. Either I turn you in, make my credits, and let Thanos find you after they’re done with you. Or… you come with me and Groot, we team up, and we bring Thanos down before he even knows what hit him.”