[IC] Guardians of Infinity

[Byrd Man]

Lower Westside Manhattan
Near where that one deli makes a really good open faced sandwich...
Not that one! The other one. You know which one I mean! The one where Amanda..
Ohmygod, I'm just supposed to be giving the location of the scene! I am so sorry!

Howard waddled down the New York sidewalk with his prospective client. The occasional onlooker threw a strange look his way. Even in this world of superheroes and mutants, a talking duck was a bit of an oddity to these people. Howard was used to it. He lived here among these hairless ape folks for years now. They weren't far removed from the caves of their ancestors, but there was the occasional good one.

"It might be tricky, Mr. Hou, but I think I can help you recover your wife's stolen necklace," Howard said to the tall, lanky Asian man who walked by his side. "But I don't come cheap."

"I have no money, Mr. The Duck."

"... Okay, I'll come cheap."

Hou's eyes lit up and he hugged Howard hard and tight around the shoulders. Howard tried to fight against Hou's grasp, but gave up."

"Why do you smell like buttered bread?"

"It's my cologne," Howard said, shrugging out of Hou's hug. "Poppy Seed Roll by Calvin Klein. It drives the hens wild, or so I've been told."

Hou arched an eyebrow at Howard. "Okay... thank you again for taking my case, Mr. The Duck."

"Please, Mr. The Duck was my father. Call me Howard, and thank you for seeking me out. I have so few clients, and I'm glad that you made the right decision to choose me because I stand for professionalism, dedication, and--"

"Heroes for Hire cost too much," Hou said. "Everyone says to find the duck, he works dirt cheap."

"Waugh!" said Howard. "Humans, what a bunch of cheapskates. I'll find your stolen necklace, Mr. Hou, and... I'll be taking all my coffee breaks on the clock! That's right, buster, that'll teach you!"

Howard stalked away, more of a fast waddle given his webbed feet, away from his new client and disappeared into the busy New York traffic in a huff.

[Ruby]

Peter Quill had spent the morning wandering. Cosmicdude had told him where and when he would find the first target, but the shiny stone bracelet he'd been given much have been broken or something--it got him to Earth hours before he needed to be to run into the first target. Which was stupid. Why would he want to just waste time on one of Earth's biggest cities? There were reasons he hadn't returned to Earth, even when he had the chance before.

Like, at least two good reasons.

He wasn't comfortable on Earth. This was reinforced when he followed a smoking hot chick (because what else was he going to do with hours to kill but walk around and scope out the chicks?) into a book store. Some young punk pointed at the walkmen on his belt and laughed at it, like it was a relic from a forgotten time. Like it was worth pointing at and pointing out. Worse, the hot chick he'd been scoping out chuckled at it, too...but that was okay because then she smiled at him. And called it cute.

So screw that kid

But the worst of it was that he wanted something to drink, and maybe a snack, but Earth didn't take credits. And when he tried to find a place to exchange credits for dollars, he couldn't find a bank where the teller didn't laugh at him. Who knew his home planet was filled with a bunch of jerks? Just another reason for him to not come back; that everyone on the planet seemed to be a jerk.

But there were the hot chicks, too, so it lead to a debate in his head as he leaned against a brick building on a street corner and waited. Cosmicdude said he'd know the target when he saw him; walking duck. Which just sounded stupid, almost as stupid as a walking plant, or a walking, talking, Raccoon.

Almost, anyway.

"Hey, Duck." Star Lord piped up as he saw the duck waddle forth, coming off the wall with a light kick of his heel, moving a few feet to stand in front of the duck. "Universe is ending. Big cosmic looking dude told me where and when to find you; said this would be more important than a...Hou." Whatever that meant. "You wanna help? Some big reward in it for you," Quill added, giving the Duck the lie as instructed by the cosmicdude.

[Byrd Man]

"Hey, Duck." The stranger said as he blocked Howard's path. "Universe is ending. Big cosmic looking dude told me where and when to find you; said this would be more important than a...Hou. You wanna help? Some big reward in it for you."

Howard was about to tell the guy to get stuffed, he had a valuable case to pursue. But the last little bit intrigued him. As a talking duck, he naturally had joined in on his share of trippy cosmic adventures. There was the Secret Wars, the Infinity War, the Double Secret Probation Crisis, The Great Pizza Delivery, and his favorite Duckaplooza. In all of those, he did his share of the work... and didn't get paid a dime for his troubles. Now, stupid handsome guy was offering to pay him for his troubles.

"Okay, Stupid Handsome Guy. I'll go along, but I better get paid! I don't work for peanuts... well, one time I did. Lesson there is, don't do security work for the circus."

[Morden Man]

Bucky Barnes took a glance at his wristwatch with a quiet sigh. In fourteen hours and forty-nine minutes it would be exactly a year to the day that Steve Rogers had been shot dead. Try as Natasha Romanov might to take Bucky’s mind off that fact it was hard for Barnes to think of much else. A single text message to Tony Stark had been enough to earn them a window table at a Manhattan restaurant with a waiting list a yearlong. Bucky had barely touched his food, nudging the slice of salmon around his perfectly square plate impassively, until Natasha finally decided to break through the silence.

“What’s wrong? Is the food not to your liking?”

Bucky shook his head and placed his knife and fork down, now conscious he had been playing with his food. “It’s not that.”

“Ah, the memorial service again.”

Natasha’s voice was a mixture of exasperation and compassion. Since Bucky had learned of the service he’d thought of little else. The pair had spoken about it several times over the past few days, Natasha explaining time and time again why it was unwise for them to attend, but it seemed like his mind was set. He looked up at her, the candlelight flickering in his face as he said as earnestly as he could.

“I have to go, Natasha.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Natasha said with a sympathetic sigh. “Norman Osborn and his so-called Avengers will be there waiting for us to show our faces so they can turn the whole thing into a firefight. There’ll be thousands of people there, hundreds of thousands even, we can’t risk them getting caught in the crossfire. It’s the last thing Steve would have wanted. You know that.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not asking you to go with me.”

He lent forward in his seat, the flame of the candle flicking against the black of Bucky’s eyes as he spoke, and tried his best to find the words.

“I watched Steve die, Natasha, watched him bleed out on those steps in a pair of handcuffs like a common criminal. I couldn’t lift a finger to help him. And then I had to watch his funeral from a barstool in some Brooklyn dive. Steve, Toro, and Jim Hammond were the closest thing I ever had to a family and now all three of them are gone. I couldn’t save Steve, I was on ice when Toro and Jim died, and now I’m meant to miss my chance to pay my respects to Steve? It’s not going to happen. I’m going, Natasha, one way or another I’m going to be there. Even if it means being led out of there in handcuffs by Norman Osborn at the end of the night.”

Natasha opened her mouth to speak but Bucky interjected with a shake of his head.

“Nothing is going to stop me.”

An awkward silence settle between the two of them. Finally Natasha looked up at her lover and smiled. “Do you feel better now?”

Bucky’s face was red with embarrassment. He hadn’t intended to rant at Natasha but the thought of watching Norman Osborn and his cronies light candles to his friend’s memory whilst he watched on in hiding turned his stomach. He needed to be there. More than that, he needed Natasha to understand why he needed to be there no matter the cost.

“I guess so.”

“It doesn’t seem like I’m going to be able to change your mind,” Natasha said with a shrug. “So we’d better get with Barton and the rest of them to figure out what our play is for tomorrow night. The last thing we need to do is walk into Osborn’s trap unprepared.”

Bucky frowned. “I can do this on my own.”

A defiant smile appeared on Natasha’s face. It was the smile that Bucky had fallen in love when they had met all those years ago.

“Not a chance in hell, Barnes. If you think Luke, Clint, Logan, and Peter are going to stand by and watch you walk in there on your own you've got another thing coming. Steve meant as much to each and everyone one of them as he meant to you. If you're set on going to the service, we're all going. But we're not going to do it half cocked.”

Bucky smiled appreciatively. “Thank you.”

Natasha gestured towards one of the waiters wandering around with her head. “Should I get the cheque?”

“Sure,” Bucky said with a polite nod. “I’m going to the restroom, I won’t be long.”

Barnes stood up from his chair and kissed Natasha on the head gently as he made his way to the restroom. He took a glance back at her as he reached the door and smiled, allowing himself a moment to appreciate how perfect Natasha was, before walking inside. He made his way to the sinks and placed his hands beneath them, wiping his wet hands against his face and running one through his hair with a sigh. For a few moments he looked into his reflection and laid his eyes on the prosthetic arm that Stark had designed to look skin coloured. His metal arm reminded him of who he was before he picked up that shield and all the pain he'd caused. He'd make it up to them. One by one, day by day, he'd prove he was fit to carry the shield.

From behind Bucky there was a flash of light and Bucky looked in the mirror to see a man in a strange mask and a flowing burgundy coat stood staring at him. Beside him stood a duck barely three foot tall in height wearing human clothing.

“What the h…?”

[Ruby]

Of all the things Peter Quill found awkward about the moment in time and space he found himself in because of that damn little gem, it was the old black guy with a gaunt face and salt and pepper close cropped hair that he was left staring at. Deep down, Peter knew that he was probably just uneasy with the task at hand. He'd never been much of a recruiter, always more the loner with his headphones on. What made Cosmicdude pick him to play Superhero Round-Up? It was a question Peter had asked himself half a hundred times...and still had come no closer to answering.

Unless getting Gamora, Drax, and Rocket to not kill each other long enough to work together qualified as an achievement in leadership. On his best days, Peter thought it was. On most days, Peter just assumed the alcohol and galactic threat had done the work for him. So maybe he was just a little short when his right hand touched just behind his temple, and his "mask" quickly and efficiently folded upon itself until there was only his face to be seen.

A face still staring at the older black guy in the suit, looking like a bathroom valet. Of the four men present in the Men's Room (well--three men and a duck that seemed pretty male to him), only one of them DEFINITELY did not belong. Peter's face never looked angry. Muted irritation, maybe, but there was no overt anger there. Just a little passive aggressiveness in his otherwise flat tone. "...sup?...mind if we get a minute here?"

The men's room attendant's eyes had gone wide at seeing his mask do it's disappearing act, and found the eyes behind the mask staring at him. If it was awkward before, it got plain uncomfortable, Peter doing anything but hiding the fact that maybe the old timer should scoot on for a bit. By the time Peter actually said something, the attendant was sliding off his stool in the clumsy way an old man with too much wear and tear on his joints moved, and a moment later the three of them were alone.

"...those mints look good."

Hunger was a mother fucker. Between the smells of delicious food that wafted into the otherwise overly air freshened men's room of the restaurant and the fact that no money meant Peter hadn't eaten anything in nearing seven hours, the mints looked like a four course meal. In a heartbeat, Peter had a handful of delicious chocolate covered mints cupped in one hand, using his other to unwrap each mint's wrapper, and down it. He was three to four mints in by the time he remembered why he was actually there.

His eyes pausing as they returned to the guy standing in front of he and the Duck, looking just as confused (but far less patient) than the bathroom attendant had looked. "RIGHT. Hey, bro, I'm Star Lord and this is...the Duck." Peter had known the Duck's name just minutes ago, before his brain power was divided between unwrapping mints to shove into his mouth, and trying to explain what was going on while remaining understood despite the muffling of the odd word due to the mints he all but inhaled.

"I was tasked by this, like, big giant dude that looked like a galaxy and was named...Ernie, or Eternity, or Ernieternity...these are really good mints." Another mouthful, and Peter tossed the wrappers towards the ground, brushing off his slightly choclately hands on his trousers before returning to the mission at hand. "Anyway, Ernie gave me this thing," Peter held up his right wrist, using his left hand to yank down on the right sleeve of his coat just enough to flash the polished purple gem fitted tightly into a solid silver place-setting upon an otherwise plain looking leather wrist band.

The gem shined when the harsh flourescent light of the restroom hit it, but otherwise did nothing--until the man wielding the shield gazed at it. In that instant was held an infinity of galaxies alive with pale glow of moonlight, the fury of star fire, and celestial bodies of every size and color of the spectrum; all of it and more cascading through the man's mind and sight at such a kinetic speed that it might have felt like the Big Bang went off in his head and just as quicly reversed to nothingness within the fraction of a second.

At lest, that's how it had felt to Peter. As quickly as he'd revealed it, Peter slid his coat sleeve back of his wrist and dropped his hands back to his sides. "He gave it to me, and told me I had to find some heroes to...I dunno, help save the universe. I got a little distracted by the gem when he was talking to me, to be honest. But, dude," Peter's voice deepened, and his eyes went wide, to emphasis just how totally serious this shit was, "...it's for real. Like, a bad moon's rising, and he told me to find Captain America. The Captain America of this exact moment, not the blonde haired guy everyone knows and loves, but YOU, my man. Right? So what do you say...wanna help save the universe?"

After a pause, Quill only had one thought go through his mind as he waited for a response:

I can totally recruit.

[Byrd Man]

Howard followed the bathroom attendant outside the restroom while Star Guy gave Captain America the pitch. It was Howard's plan to calm the poor guy down. Of course he was frightened out of his wits, who wouldn't be at the sight of that big oaf? He was certain he wasn't frightened by Howard, who would be afraid of a talking duck? The scared man scampered through the kitchen area of the restaurant.

"Sir! Sir!"

Howard waddled through the kitchen, plucking food off waiting plates as he went. He didn't have time for a sit-down meal. The universe was at stake so he'd have to settle for a doggie bag.

"Who ordered the duck a l'orange?" the chef asked, holding his huge kitchen knife above Howard's head.

"WAUGH!" Howard shouted, stuffing bread and other food into his pocket as he rushed out the kitchen with the chef behind him. He crashed into the bathroom just as Star Guy was wrapping up his pitch. He leaned hard against the door to prevent the chef from getting in.

"Whatever you decide, decide fast," he said to Captain America, a dinner roll in his mouth. "I can't very well save the universe if I'm on the menu tonight."

[Ruby]

Quill only needed to look at the Duck once, and sniff twice, before his eyes narrowed down at the Duck.

"...you got food?"

[Byrd Man]

"Get your own, Star Guy," Howard hissed. "Mr. Savior of the Universe, you don't know how to order out?"

The door holding back the chef buck and rocked. Howard held on to the frame for dear life.

[Ruby]

"OCUPADO!" Was Peter's immediate reaction to the jostling door. His eyes rolling at the words of an unseen elder black gentlemen on the other side of the door, "Yeah. A motherfuckin' talking Duck!"

Quill smiled. "Hand over a little something-something, and I'll help with that door."

[Byrd Man]

Howard grumbled and pulled something from his pocket. A wet, mushy piece of meat and gravy slapped into Star Guy's hands. The tall guy looked at it alarmingly before looking down at Howard in disgust.

"I have to sometimes mush my food up if it's too rich," Howard said, opening his mouth to show his teeth, or lack thereof. "I got no teeth, champ. It's hard out here for a duck."

[Ruby]

Disgust flooded Peter's features, his hand immediately turning upside down to let the piece of...mush fall to the floor. Resentment and hunger and irritation and hunger once again coming to his face. "Maaaan, I told you I didn't have any Earth money."

Still, the Duck had fulfilled his end. Sorta. "Move," Said with a sigh, Peter held the door with his right hand, motioning for the Duck (named Howard--he suddenly remembered) to move aside with his left before the door frame came to life with a dim translucent glow; ripples of a brighter purple light cutting across the door frame here, then there, up top, down low, and then here again.

Only then did Peter remove his hand from the door. "There."

There was no more sound from beyond the door, no more energy used on the other side to push it open. When the door WAS pushed open by those outside it, all they'd find is an empty bathroom...with no mints and a piece of mushy meat globed in gravy upon the chilled tile floor.

[Morden Man]

There had been a lot of things Bucky had been forced to get used to after they'd restored his memories. TVs with a thousand different channels showing everything you could ever imagine, the internet, phones that could take pictures and videos, even that Netflix thing that Natasha was so hot on. A talking duck certainly took the biscuit. Still, the so-called Star Lord's point resonated around Bucky's head as the farce unfolded.

Whoever had sent Quill had chosen, not Steve, and that fact weighed heavily on his mind.

"There must be some kind of mistake," Bucky whispered to himself with a shake of his head. "Why me? Not him?"

His thoughts went to Natasha sat outside waiting for him, probably wondering where the hell he was, and Steve's memorial service tomorrow night. He'd told Natasha that nothing would stop him from going and he'd meant it but from the sounds of it the fate of the universe was on the line. Once upon a time Bucky would have said to hell with it and left it to someone else but he wasn't just Bucky anymore. He was more than that. He was Captain America.

With a nod, Bucky looked to Star Lord and the Duck and smiled. "You had better bring me back to this exact moment. I have somewhere I need to be tomorrow night. Oh, and we're going to have to pick up my shield and uniform. Something tells me where we're going a dinner jacket is not going to cut it."

[Kablamicus]

The sun was setting over the New York, Matt couldn't see it but he could feel the change in air temperature, like a duvet being slowly pulled off him, he was sitting at his desk in Nelson and Murdock 'reading' over a passage from the Daily Bugle, running his hands over the ink he could feel the minute depressions in the paper, it read "Daredevil Lawyer pictured with Luke Cage. Proof?!" Matt scoffed at he paper, this had been another in a series of articles attempting to out him as Daredevil, although there was never any concrete evidence his secret identity was quickly becoming Hell's Kitchen's worst kept secret, second only to what Josie's Bar put in their pork pies.

Without turning his head, Matt reached out to his right and grasped his white cane, he'd been working too hard recently, both in the courtroom and in the spandex, even Foggy agreed he needed a vacation someplace bright and away from the barrage to the senses that was New York City. Heading out onto the street Matt tapped his cane along the floor as he made his way back towards his apartment, most people instinctively got out of his way assuming the blind man needed all the space he could get so as not to collide with everything in his path, that wasn't further from the truth. Matt could smell the cologne of the wealthy business exec who angrily strode down the path yelling to his PA about how the 'merger had gone south', he could hear two voices, one sounding rusty and hoarse, the other young and optimistic coming from a flat below, the older voice imparting stories from 'his day' to the younger. Matt protected all of these people, he heard every voice, every heartbeat and he lived to make sure that they all were free from injustice and pain.

However there was one noise that Matt didn't want to hear, the loud clunking of servos, the sound of metal sliding against metal and the warbling voice of Wilbur Day. Wilbur Day was less of a mad scientist and moreso a mad engineer, he had created a sit with huge telescopic legs and gone by the moniker Stilt Man, Matt always felt comforted that there was someone with a worse name than him. Before Matt even arrived at the block where Wilbur's voice was emanating from he was already in costume and bounding across the rooftops.

Matt's body contorted and twisted as he darted between various obstacles, bouncing off of an air conditioner unit onto the top of a watertower, although he had lost his sight he now had a form of 'radar sense', this allowed him to have great spatial awareness giving him almost a form of omnidirectional sight in which he was able to work out shapes and depth, the only issue he had was with distinguishing colour. Matt peered over the edge of the water tower only to see Day ascending rapidly towards him in his hydraulically powered suit, in it's grasps was a bag filled with hundred dollar bills, Matt would have expected a man who could build a suit of power armour to have moved beyond petty theft by now but this was the man who had named himself after a piece of circus equipment.

Before Matt could even react Day was bounding through the streets away from Daredevil, crushing cars and destroying lamposts in his wake. Matt gave the thief chase through the streets staying on the offence constantly harassing the criminal with everything he had yet the suit was impervious to his attacks, the suit was too strong to simply punch and his billy club merely ricocheted off the suit as if it were made of rubber. Reaching an industrial district Matt was hit with a pungent odour emanating from a nearby silo, moreover he could hear a faint creaking coming from one of the silo's supports. As Day dashed past the Silo thinking he had escaped Murdock, Matt tossed his club at the silo's support as hard as he could, the silo collapsed onto the fleeing thief, his suit coated in chemical waste.

Within ten minutes the police had arrived and Day was off to the station without his prize money. Matt would have felt bad about destroying part of a factory if he didn't know that the entire estate was a front for Fisk's drug operations. With the police gone Matt aimed his grappling hook skyward once more however he hesitated when he heard three heartbeats nearby and a strong scent of mint and...duck?

[Morden Man]

With a wave of the little gem in Quill's hand, Bucky had been outfitted in his uniform and his shield had appeared in his hand. It was a surreal experience to say the least but certainly a lot more convenient than the three of them hauling ass across Manhattan on the back of Bucky's motorbike. The three of them had watched Daredevil fighting a guy Howard had identified as "Stilt-Man" from a rooftop and once the man in red had successfully pursued him and the police were out of their way they had made their way down.

"Fine," Bucky could be heard to say to Quill as they approached Daredevil. He rooted around in his pocket for a minute. "And to think back at the restaurant I thought that Eternity was wrong to pick me. We're meant to be saving the universe and you're more interested in buying a hot dog."

They stopped in front of Daredevil and Bucky gestured to Quill and Howard with an awkward smile, knowing how surreal the image must have seemed. "No, your eyes are not lying to you. That is a talking duck in clothes. He assures me his name is Howard and the guy in the coat hankering for some food is Star Lord. Where I'm from people call me Captain America. We need your help, friend. The universe needs your help."

[Byrd Man]

"As a guy who has been tricked into attending one too many furry orgies, let me assure you this is not a sex thing," Howard said. "What my friend, Captain America, is trying to say is hop on board the team train, loser. We're going to save the universe... and get kickass t-shirts for our troubles."

Howard removed his suit coat, revealing a navy blue t-shirt that showed a photo of himself and Star-Lord high fiving. BEST FRIENDS FOREVER was written underneath the photo in bright pink comic sans font.

"Where'd you get that?" Quill asked.

"That little gem of yours has a mind of its own," Howard said with a wink.

[An Outsider]

The wailing, booming, strangled cacophony of the clubs stereo's easily ranked as some of the most grating noises that Hercules had ever heard, ranking somewhere between the cries of the Stygian birds, and the toneless singing of Benjamin Grimm. The wine was little better, boasting a sourness he imagined could only be attained by the vintner purposefully setting out to make undrinkable swill. The company was a silver-lining, three women in their late thirties who, he was reliably informed, qualified as 'MILFS', one blonde and two brunettes. The women had flooded his corner booth a little while after he had entered the establishment, with the intention's of drinking away his woes.

The Demi-God realized that he was probably being overly harsh towards the club, that the music and the wine was probably no worse than any of the other small-town watering hole's that he had ever graced, and that the only foulness present, real or imagined, was the foulness he himself had tracked in.

The hero had been on the road now for three days, he, his sister, Wise Athena, and his young ally Amadeus Cho, with pup in tow. Long days, with sifting cities blurring into the background while he was left with little else to do save muse on the grim turn of his fate. At being declared a renegade after throwing his lot in with powerful Hulk, after the green giant was sorely wronged by powerful men he had once called allies. At Hulks rage, and the devastation it had caused. At the temporary destruction, an act committed, and rectified, by Amadaeus', one that had seen Herc and his young ally going on the run, and leading to his current situation, trying to drink away his woes in a poor fitting disguise.

By Zeus, how he longed for the simple days of heroism, when the villains looked like scaled serpents, the heroes were the one's punching the serpents, and everyone wrote songs about his greatness. He downed his wine with a sullen swig, before calling for a new bottle. He knew better than that though. Things had 'never' been simpler, not in his three thousands years of life.

“Sigh,” He sighed, the three lady's that had been talking animatedly amongst each other dropping their conversations and showering him with attention.

“What is the matter Hercules?” Asked the blonde, her face full of concern. His renegade status did not seem to bother the trio a wit. In fact it might have added to his allure.

“Nothing,” He responded, before sighing once more.

“I think he's sad.” Said one brunette.

“No!” cried the second, “We can't have that now, can we!”

“Hmm, let's see if we can't cheer him up.” Purred the blonde, melting into his side while sliding a hand up his t-shirt, running silky smooth fingers across his abs. Despite himself he felt a smile crawl across his face.

Ok, so there was something to recommend this club after all, even if it couldn't offer the chance for some the honest hero work he so desired..

[Ruby]

The four heroes made a quick trans-spatial stop for the suit and shield of Captain America before the gem on Peter Quill's wrist put them where they needed to be for the next pick-up: even if it had put them there a full hour before Quill knew, as the gem told him, they needed to be there. Timing was always an issue with the gem, and Quill knew why...even if he kept tight lipped about the gem, what it was, who gave it to him, and why the timing was usually off. The analogy he had used with Ernie to confirm he understood was: It's my phone booth, and you're my Rufus?

Quill swore he thought he heard the giant Cosmicdude Ernie chuckle after phrasing their arrangement in terms of Bill & Ted.

But he knew he was on anything but an excellent adventure, the only true relief that it hadn't been overly difficult to convince anyone to hop into the phonebooth with him so far. Or was their ease in acceptance part of Ernie's plan? Is that why THESE heroes were on the list? They were all ready for a fight bigger than the ordinary hero stuff. They were all ready to save the infinite, endless, of creation. He hoped so. Who knew, maybe they'd even make a movie about it one day? Not that Quill was leading man material, anyway. Always a Han, never a Luke. Just the way he liked it.

The odd hour before they needed to be at the club was spent at a place of his insistence, after one of the new guys let Quill borrow some scratch: McDonald's. They all sat in a booth tucked into the back corner of the "establishment", the Duck gnawing on fries, Cap looking tormented, the Devil sipping on a milkshake, and the great Star Lord demolished a Quarter-Pounder with Cheese meal with large fries and a large Coke like it was an easy Xandarian girl. Cap and the Devil drawing way too much attention to their table with their totally obvious super-suits, only Quill and the Duck keeping it on the d-low.

Cap alone seemed to have a selfie request from some starstruck stranger every five minutes, though none of them seemed to believe the Star Lord when he piped in that it was the REAL Captain America. Whatever a "cosplayer" was. Quill would've ordered another burger, but it quickly became time to ditch and head for the club--if only to get Cap and el Diablo a momentary reprieve. Quill was about to give the two of them another round of shit for causing such a scene, until they hit the club's rope line: it was only when the mountain of a man in a black shirt five sizes too small that acted as Bouncer saw Cap that he suddenly smiled, and welcomed them in.

Quill was the last one through, smiling at a young honey that was still trying to talk her way into the door, delaying him for a few moments. The coat girl was even hotter, but she gave him a strange look when he declined to hand over his coat--yet Cap seemed to get no grief for holding onto the shield. Quill muttered until they entered the club proper; the music blasting just funky enough for Star Lord's awesome tastes, his hips instantly grooving this way and that slightly as his gait became part dance at the song that seemed to be about "getting lucky."

Some girl shouted a "Shake ya tailfeather!" at the Duck as they passed her group on the dancefloor, heading towards the back, where the one of them with the peek senses had already found their intended target. The four of them approached the big man's private booth side-by-side-by-side-by ducky side, Quill smiling at the ladies as their attention was piqued. "Hey ladies, take a hike. We need to chat with this guy."

[Byrd Man]

Howard ran his fingers through the feathers on his head and smiled at the Greek demigod.

"Herc, hate to Quackblock you like this but we need your help. More importantly, the world and the entire universe need your help."

Howard jumped onto the table and held on the lapels of his jacket and padded across the table as he spoke.

"Now we are engaged in a great cosmic war, testing whether that a dude, or any group of dudes so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war by jerks. We here highly resolve that these dudes here shall not die in vain— that this group of dudes, under some weird ass cosmic being, shall have a new birth of awesomeness—and that these dudes fighting for the babes, to get the babes, and keep the babes, shall not perish from this reality!"

[Morden Man]

A pained expression appeared on Cap's face and he leaned over towards Quill and whispered to him. "Do you know what that meant? He lost me somewhere around the fourth dude."