#numyths

“so you’ve heard about rad?” she asked casually setting aside her files and picking up her coffee, leveling her gaze at ben as he sat opposite her. she knew her little side project that she had been carefully nurturing was becoming bigger than she could have imagined - and it was nice to see the resistance growing more and more - and all while completely under doom’s nose. “i’d love to recruit you and your team, after all the fantastic four knows the emperor best, do they not?” she knew the answer already, but wanted to hear him confirm it. “what do you say, ben grimm? care to join in the resistance or would you like to take a subtler approach?”

“you lost me at you fly through space. or did.” frank interrupted, holding up a hand to almost beg peter to take a moment and not talk. sure, by now it was reasonable to assume that frank had finally managed to wrap his head around things, that he wasn’t actively fighting against the very real fact that time, space, and magic were real. but he was an old dog who hated new tricks. still, peter was entertaining in regards of keeping frank from focusing too much on any one thing. “so the talking raccoon with a obsession with blowing shit up, he’s your pet?” he asked, kinda figuring rocket belonged to no one but it seemed like if he listened to anyone it was peter quill. “what’s space like?”

a snicker escaped him as he scuttled out from underneath quill’s bunk, satisfied with the box of unused tapes he’d found and feeling, given that groot is his look-out and hadn’t said anything, that he’d once again gotten away with something. that was until he finally got everything out and he was sitting on the floor and saw the shadow of what was most definitely peter quill-shaped. “uh-oh.” he muttered, slowly looking up and over at quill, widening his eyes and wiggling his nose to be as cute and harmless looking as he possibly could. “it’s supposed to be a surprise for you, but now you’re gonna ruin it - and you too groot, don’t think i’m letting you off on not telling me he was here!” rocket barked, looking around quill at groot who merely shrugged and began to chomp on some grass. typical.

“Alright,” Peter said. He stared up at the wheel turning its way through Midtown, a trail of crushed cars and toppled food trucks in its wake. Somewhere down the block, Pizza Poppa played “Life Is a Highway” through his tinny loudspeaker, which, sure. “They were right. That is one very big wheel. Think we should ask for his license and registration? Or are we going with more of a punch first, check ID later approach?”

“Hey, Hornhead!” Peter called. “What’s a guy like you doin’ in a place like this?”