riverview | video; @star.lord

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video; @star.lord

[ Distinguished and not-so distinguished residents of Riverview, hello.

Currently, you are graced with a mugshot of one Peter “Space-Duke” Quill and a view of the messier half of his shared apartment. In his hand is his trusty mp3 player – which boasts at least three hundred songs, holy crap, y’all – and while he has one bud in his ear, the other dangles from the wire. ]

So. Apparently if nothing else, this place has, like, all the music ever. So if I’ve gotta be stuck here, might as well make the most of it, right?

I’m on the hunt for somethin’ new. Tryin’ to play a whole lot of catch up. If anyone’s got any music recommendations, I’m all ears. Songs, artists, albums, weird, avant-garde stuff with a guy saying “number nine” over and over – hit me with your best shot. I’ll try anything once.

Also, uh.

[ A pause, and he turns the mp3 player’s face toward the camera. The screen happily displays the album art of The Best of Earth, Wind & Fire, Vol. 1 while “September” plays. Zunes, man!! Aren’t they rad? ]

Don’t suppose anyone here’s familiar enough with this that they can show me how to add stuff?

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[Hey, it's better than having the conversation end on bad news. Dodger shrugs awkwardly and pans the camera to show the dog. It's a crumpled heap that looks very much like a dead malinois... except for the fact that one of its ears is missing, along with a large patch of fur that shows metal plates and wiring. It looks like a few patches of its fur were scortched as well, and its head has a heavy dent in it.]

Got his ass handed to him by some kind of... flaming pony demon.

[And Dodger's just sort of... been keeping him next to his laundry for safe-keeping, apparently. What else do you do with broken dog robots??]

[ Peter opens his mouth.

Then he closes it.

Then, ]

A… flaming pony demon.

[ The words “pony” and “demon” don’t belong together, in Peter’s mind. ]

Was he dicking around outside the fence?

No, this asshole that lives in the communal hall tried to burn my door down. The pony thing belonged to him. Brink got broken trying to keep my room safe.

[He's visibly shaken by the whole thing... yes, it was his fault, but how was he supposed to know that taunting a kid in a wheelchair would turn into constantly glancing over his back to make sure there weren't any knives aimed at it?]

Believe me, if I had time to go out and kill shit outside the walls I would. But I'm pretty sure if I leave my room for more than a few hours a day someone's gonna break in and trash it.

[ Peter’s expression twists, something that says “Eesh, holy shit,” but without so many words. ]

What the hell did he do that for? [ And also, should Peter be worried about breaking and entering attempts by demon horseys? Because that was pretty low on his list of concerns up until now. ]

Is this, like, a thing around here? Who’s just siccing demons on folks?

[He shrugs, rather than give a concrete explanation on why it happened. It's a long story - it's not even that he doesn't want to tell it, it's just that he'd rather be sure Peter is going to be on his side of things.]

There's this viking kid in a wheelchair, lives on Floor Five. Goes by Ivar Ragnarsson, or Ivar the Boneless. If I were you I'd keep out of his hair, he's gotta sleep with at least fifty knives on hand.

[ "The Boneless."

Huh. He's talking to a guy with that username right now, actually, and Peter frowns thoughtfully.

(The mention of sleeping with knives makes him think of Drax back home, though, and he feels the briefest pang of homesickness.) ]

I'll keep that in mind.

[ is what he says aloud, but if this Ivar guy is the same as the one Peter's talking to, Peter also just literally gave the guy suggestions on songs to listen to while battling, so.

Oops? ]

Sorry about your dog, though. That sucks.

Shit happens. [He offers a shrug.] Just make sure not to make that kid angry if you do talk to him. Better off not having the aggravation.

[He pauses, picking his phone up to look something up before speaking.]

They sell chargers at the electronics store down the street from the communal hall, you might be able to find a sync cable there. They look like this.

[He sends over a picture taken off of Riverview's version of google.]

Once you've got one I can help you out, but damn... that is old-ass tech. Y'know I was fourteen when the first Zune came out?

[ He takes a mental not of the picture, his expression probably a lot more serious than the situation warrants, but—

The Zune was a gift. An important one. And he's going to damn well learn the ins and outs of the thing, even if it kills him.

The mention of the Zune being old though trips him up a little, and Peter frowns. By now he's under the impression that the Zune isn't quite as popular as Kraglin mentioned it being, but old? ]

And how long ago was that, exactly?

Eleven years ago, maybe? I was born in '92.

[Not that he thinks that'll mean much, but... I mean, the guy's got some familiar tech, so their worlds can't be too different.]

Hell, these days you can get headphones that keep all your music in them. No player required. But I'm not much of a tech buff.

[ Okay. Math time. 1992. Plus 14 years makes it 2006? So that's when the Zune came out, which makes it— a little less than a decade old?

Ish?

Peter frowns a little, tapping the edge of the Zune's rubber casing. ]

Yeah. Dunno if I need all that. Kinda prefer something in front of me.

[ Star-Lord? More like Star-Luddite. ]

Hey, can't argue there... still having some trouble moving on from CDs.

[He shrugs lightly.]

You from the same time period as that thing, or just collect old shit?

Might be from the same time period? I think.

[ He quickly goes over his mental math again, trying to recall how the conversion works from the general galactic standard to Terran time. Eventually, he settles on, ]

It was, uh, 2014? Ish? For me.

[ A pause as he reconsiders. ]

... Pretty sure, anyway.

[That puts a lazy grin on his face.]

So I am from the future for you... it's 2017 for me. 'Least, last I checked it was. Any good reason you're having trouble remembering?

[ With all the defensiveness of a child insisting he’s not eight, but eight and a half, ] That’s only three years, dude. Try not to be too smug.

[ As for the question, Peter lifts a shoulder in a quick shrug. ] I don’t really have a reason to keep track of time on Earth. I haven’t been back there in a while.

What, you some kind of space lord?

[That's a thing, right? Not like Dodger's world has much in terms of space travel... they haven't sorted out their own affairs enough to contact other planets.]

[ By now, making the correction is second nature: ]

Star-Lord.

[ —wait, no, that’s not what the guy is saying. ]

But, yeah. I don’t live on Earth. Easier to say I do a lot of traveling.

Star-Lord.

[That... just puts a grin on his face. That's fucking adorable.]

Is that a military title?

[ excuse you??? it is not adorable. it is cool and badass and a title worthy of respect.

(good thing Dodger can’t see the notebook tucked away on Peter’s desk, where, in moments of boredom, he’s doodled “Star-Lord” over and over in different kinds of block lettering across a couple of pages.)

To Peter’s credit, he only bristles a little. ]

It’s a call sign.

[ Well, it was Peter’s attempt at an outlaw name for a little while there, but considering he’s turned over a new leaf, he can’t really consider himself as infamous as Black Bart or the Sundance Kid. ]

A call sign. Right.

[Now he's just snickering. This is so cute, it's like talking to a middle-classed kid that thinks they're a gangster.]

So, what did you do back home, Star-Lord?

[He doesn't mean to be condescending, really, just... Star-Lord. Jesus Christ.]

Edited (icon wasn't sarcastic enough) 2017-08-18 21:46 (UTC)

[ He sends Dodger a flat look, but twenty-six years of life as an outlaw trying to make the name "Star-Lord" happen means he's used to this sort of derision. ]

Kinda do a bit of everything.

[ This, at least, comes easily enough. ]

Reacquisition of goods. Tracking down wanted criminals at a premium. Averting and-slash-or defending against interplanetary catastrophe.

[ So— thieving. Bounty hunting

Guarding the Galaxy. ]

The same kinda shit any guy gets up to on a Saturday afternoon, you know?

So you were a bounty hunter.

[If anything, that earns a bit of Dodger's respect.]

I was an information broker. Did a few hitman jobs, too... whenever the boss wanted me to. Mostly I was in charge of keeping track of what everyone in the city was up to.

[He tips his head.]

If you ever feel like playing on the wrong side of the tracks some more, I bet we could get into some real trouble around here without too many consequences...

[Says the guy currently wearing a power suppressor, under house arrest.]

[ ... oh, that's tempting.

That's. Really tempting.

But Peter's supposed to be, like, a good guy, now. A Guardian of the Galaxy and everything, and squeaky-clean rap sheets to match. But Peter's not a saint, and the siren call of cold, hard cash still affects him the same as it ever has. And, really, like— does it count if he's not in his own galaxy?

Oof. Something to consider.

(He glances up to where his roommate, Gamora, sits, cleaning viscera from her sword. He wonders if she's listening.) ]

... I'll think about it.

[ A pause, then, ]

Mind if I ask you a personal question?

[Dodger's been in the business since he was eight - he can tell when someone's tempted, even if they tell themselves they're morally above it. Crime is a funny thing like that, the money and excitement tend to win over anyone who's felt the rush before.]

Go ahead. Can't guarantee you'll like the answer.

[He considers himself an honest man, when it comes down to it. Private, manipulative, but honest.]

[ Welp. Peter is going to seize on the opportunity.

He points at his own neck. ]

What's with the neckwear?

[ because man, it's distracting. ]

That's not really a personal question. Just nosey.

[Which is an answer, technically, but... sure, he'll give you a serious answer.]

Remember how I mentioned my dog getting busted up? Same guy got me framed for a fight with him. [Shrug?] The collar stops me from using any superhuman abilities. Or leaving the residential building.

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that is the best reason for an edit i've ever seen

takes a bow

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