MARVEL'S GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY

REBEL HEART

Peter had barely put the Milano into autopilot when Rocket stormed into the cockpit, his face set in a scowl that seemed even darker than usual. “Alright, Star-Lord, I got questions.”

“Let me guess,” Peter replied, leaning back with a smirk. “You’re wondering when I’m going to start splitting the profits.”

“Profits? Oh, yeah, because we’re just rolling in ‘em. No, it’s about her.” He jerked a thumb back toward the cabin, where Gamora sat sharpening one of her many blades.

“What about her?”

Rocket crossed his arms. “You trust her?”

Peter shrugged, glancing back. “Maybe. She seems like she hates Thanos enough to stick with us.”

Rocket snorted. “Hating someone ain’t the same as trustin’ someone. She could be leading us right into a trap.”

Before Peter could answer, Gamora herself appeared at the cockpit door, her expression stony. “If I wanted to lead you into a trap, Rocket, you’d never see it coming.”

Peter grinned. “See? She’s on our side.”

Rocket’s fur bristled, but he backed off with a grumble. “Just remember, if she so much as looks at us funny, she’s getting zapped.”

Gamora took her seat without acknowledging him, though her hand lingered on the hilt of her blade. “This mission isn’t about you or me, Rocket,” she said, her voice low. “It’s about stopping something that no one else has the courage to face.”

“Right, big cosmic threat,” Rocket muttered, rolling his eyes. “Like you’re the only one with problems in the galaxy.”

The tension between them was thick, but Peter decided to break it with his usual lighthearted charm. “Alright, team. How about we all take a deep breath, remember that we’re not dead yet, and focus on the task at hand?”

Rocket grumbled, but settled into his seat. Gamora didn’t reply, though she stared out the viewport with a hardened look.

As they soared through space, Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that, for all the sarcasm and bluster, Rocket had a point. Gamora was a wild card, a lethal weapon wrapped in mystery. But she was their best shot at survival—and if they played it right, maybe even victory.

They had one goal: find the Orb before Thanos did. And if that meant Peter had to wrangle a misfit crew with more trust issues than a therapy group, so be it.

The Milano drifted through a star-speckled void, its sleek metal frame illuminated by the light of a distant nebula. Peter lounged in the pilot's seat, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the armrest as he cycled through his Awesome Mix. The music played low, and for a moment, everything was calm. Almost peaceful.

Then the ship’s alarms blared, and Peter jolted upright.

“Quill!” Rocket’s voice came through the intercom, edged with irritation. “Get your head outta the clouds. We got company!”

Peter checked the scanners, watching a new blip flash on the radar—an approaching ship. “Alright, alright, everyone get to battle stations!” he shouted.

Rocket stormed into the cockpit just as Gamora appeared behind him. Groot was not far behind, his towering form filling the doorway.

“What are we looking at?” Gamora asked, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Peter squinted at the radar, his jaw setting as he realized who was pursuing them. “Ravagers. Yondu's crew.”

“Yondu?” Rocket spat, jumping onto a nearby console to get a better view. “You gotta be kiddin’ me. Thought you ditched that guy for good.”