Okay, peeps. So, this is where I get to slow the story down a wee bit. So, we're gonna have quite a few chapters before they get to Knowhere I think.

Just some extra adventures I've thought up for the gang and maybe some flash back chapters. We'll see.

Anyways, enjoy!

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Peter put the Milano on autopilot, getting up to stretch his legs. First, he went to his quarters to change out of that prison jumpsuit, opting for the Ravagers' signature red leather jacket over a grey t-shirt, jeans, and his boots.

The others had gone quiet a while ago, so next he decided to go check up on them, make sure they weren't getting into too much trouble.

It was a good thing too, because when he found Rocket the little rodent was sat on the floor, humming a jaunty tune as he fiddled with his stuff.

Peter ran towards him, swiping his arm across the air, signaling for him to knock it off.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Yo, Ranger Rick! What are you doing? You can't take apart my ship without asking me!" He reached out for the parts he'd stolen. "What is this?"

"Don't touch that," Rocket warned without looking up. "It's a bomb."

"A bomb?!" Peter asked incredulously.

"Yup."

"And you leave it lying around?!"

"I was gonna put it in a box." Rocket shrugged, reaching for some more parts to yank out of the wall of the ship.

Peter held his arms out, his eyes widening, silently saying: what the hell is wrong with you? Out loud, he said, "What's a box gonna do??"

Marisol looked up at Peter and Rocket's arguing. She was sitting with her back against Groot's feet, laying her head on her knees and trying to desperately to stay awake.

Groot was sitting in the chair above her next to Drax. Gamora was perched against the wall across from her.

They'd been drifting through space for a few hours, and since everything had settled down Marisol's stamina was giving way.

The effects of using her powers, even as little an amount as she had used them, in the last thirty-six hours was beginning to kick in; and she was growing very tired very quickly.

But every time she closed her eyes, Marisol could see the images from her nightmare returning. All those strangers.

Those armies going to war. Ronan bringing them all to their knees. And Groot...

Marisol buried her head deeper into herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Groot using the last of his energy to save the rest of them.

There was no way that was going to happen. She wouldn't let it! Marisol only had two friends in the entire galaxy, and she'd be damned if she stood by and let them get hurt! Only she had no idea how to stop it.

She wasn't even sure if it could be stopped. Out of everything Marisol could manage with her powers, her dreams made the least sense to her.

They were chaotic, uncontrollable. Half the time Marisol didn't even know where to begin with figuring out what they meant.

The dreams weren't always so straight forward. Sometimes they were symbolic.

If she dreamt of a raven, it might mean that someone was about to die...or it could also just mean that she'd see a raven at some point in the near future. (Not very likely, as raven's were strictly Terran creatures, but the point still stood.)

She'd have to pick and choose which interpretation of any one dream meant; and even if she did figure out what her dreams were trying to tell her, there wasn't usually much of anything she could do about it.

The dreams, assuming the visions were literal and not symbolic, weren't predictions. They weren't potential futures.

They were events as they would happen. Prophecies destined to come true.

Besides, by the time she'd figured it out, it'd be too late anyways. At least, that's what she had always assumed.

Most days Marisol didn't bother deciphering them. (That puzzle was far too complex, even for her.)

She wouldn't even attempt 'fixing' or stopping any crappy future events she seen, because it just didn't seem worth the effort. (She wasn't anything close to a hero, after all.)

But now that things had gotten a little more personal, Marisol couldn't help thinking it was a punishment for being a huge bitch all these years.

Assuming there were any gods out there in the vast universe actually paying attention to her sorry excuse for a life, Marisol guessed they must have been testing her. Or maybe it was just some cruel joke.

Oh, so you hate heroes, huh? Well, here's your friend in mortal danger! Save him and be an annoying hero or let him die and be a bad friend! Hahaha!

Marisol scowled to herself at the thought of godly beings laughing at her. What a bunch of douchebags.

She started nodding off, only to immediately receive a new vision -- the massive hand of Thanos the mad Titan wrapped in that golden gauntlet.

The gauntlet was now covered in six multicolored gems, sparkling menacingly; with a swift motion, Thanos snapped, the noise seemingly echoing much louder than it should have.

Marisol jumped, her eyes snapping open again as she sat straight up. Her heart pounded in her chest; it felt as though her insides had melted into butter. There was a bitter taste left in her mouth.

She wasn't sure what it was about that snap that made her feel so uneasy. There was nothing remotely intimidating about that gesture.

Marisol figured it mustn't have been the snap itself but the person snapping. But that wasn't exactly a quake in your boots sort of movement, even if the guy doing it was completely insane.

She supposed it could have been one of those annoying symbolic things. But then, what did the snap symbolize?

Marisol's mind slowly turned to her previous dream. The war. The destruction. She was sure it must have been connected somehow. She just wasn't sure how yet.

Sighing, Marisol shook her head, trying to clear her mind. It didn't really matter now anyways.

She wasn't a hero. She didn't fight in wars or save lives. If the dreams were being literal, then it could be someone else's problem.

She didn't care about any of it or any of those strangers she'd dreamt about. The only ones she'd ever actually cared about were Rocket and Groot.

At the thought of Groot, Marisol remembered the image she'd had of him. Falling through the sky, using the last of his strength to help the others... His last words. We are Groot.

Well, at least he'll learn another word before he kicks the bucket, Marisol thought glumly.

Groot leaned down from his seat above her. He must have noticed her small jerk as she'd woken, because he quietly asked her if she was okay. "I am Groot?"

Mari glanced up at him, giving him a thumbs up. "Peachy." But looking at him left her heart throbbing uncomfortably so she returned her gaze to the wall in front of her.

She yawned, rubbing her eyes tiredly, as Rocket and Quill started up again.

Rocket pulled a drawer open. He pulled out a rectangular box wrapped in colorful wrapping paper. "What about this one?"

Marisol blinked. For a moment, she'd forgotten what Rocket and her cousin had been talking about. (Actually, she was so tired and groggy that Groot had to remind her they'd been arguing about the bomb Rocket had made, but Marisol pretended she'd remembered on her own.)

Peter's eyes widened as he recognized the box immediately. He'd told Marisol that the only thing he'd had left from his mother was the walkman. That wasn't true.

In actuality, he had two things left: the walkman and the present she'd given him the night she'd died, the night he and Mari had been abducted by Yondu.

He had yet to open it, and he never took it out of that drawer, lest it get lost or ruined.

"No! Whoa, hey!" He yanked the present from the raccoon's paws, stuffing it back inside the drawer and pushing it closed with his foot. "Leave it alone!"

"Why?" Rocket asked, turning to face him. "What is it?"

"Shut up!" Peter snapped.

"Hey!" Rocket scoffed, shrugging his shoulders like he thought Peter's attitude was completely unjustified.

Peter felt a little bad about it but not enough to apologize. Besides, Marisol glanced up tiredly, only grating on his nerves further when she told Rocket, "It's from his ma. She gave it to him before she died."

"Aw, how sweet and adorable," Rocket cooed teasingly, sarcasm dripping from his teeth.

Peter rolled his eyes at the two of them, quickly moving on before he got another lecture about how being sentimental was for losers.

He nodded at some other thing Rocket had made. "What's that?"

"That's for if things get really hardcore," Rocket told him. He smirked deviously. "Or if you want to blow up moons."

"No one's blowing up moons," Gamora said sternly from where she was leaning against the wall.

"You just wanna suck the joy out of everything," Rocket grumbled.

"You're no fun," Mari sighed in the same instance.

Peter walked to the red holographic space map at the center of the room.

He moved his finger along the map, speaking to Gamora. "So, listen, I'm gonna need your buyer's coordinates."

Gomora looked up at him, speaking softly. "We're headed in the right direction. For now."

Peter turned to face her, sighing a little. "If we're gonna work together, you might try trusting me a little bit."

Gamora shot him a smug look, holding up the Orb. "And how much do you trust me?"

He took the Orb from her, holding it up in front of her face. "I'd trust you a lot more, if you told me what this was. Because I'm guessing it's some kind of weapon."

Peter turned and placed it at the center of the table, only for Drax to stand up and pick thing up again.

"I don't know what it is." Gamora shifted her eyes to the floor before meeting Peter's gaze.

The movement was quick, and one might have missed it completely if they hadn't been paying attention; but Marisol had gotten good at reading people and looking for the subtle signs most people missed.

She was clearly lying. It was evidenced by the way she rapped her fingers on the surface of the table. The way she stood so precisely -- back completely straight, head held high.

Marisol wasn't sure why she was lying though. From the way the other woman was eyeing the Orb, as if it were one of Rocket's explosives, it would seem she was afraid of it.

But what could be so dangerous that it had one of the galaxy's most fierce assassins trembling where she stood? Well, Marisol supposed, that was another puzzle to solve.

"If it is a weapon," Drax said, "we should use it against Ronan."

Gamora glared over at him, leaning against the table. Her whole demeanor changed as the Destroyer plucked the Orb from the table.

Her shoulders tensed, her eyes widening to the size of golf balls. "Put it down, you fool, before you destroy us all!"

(When Marisol asked later, Gamora denied her sentence being a pun about Drax's name, but she got the feeling that was a lie too.)

Drax glared back at her. "Or just you, murderous!"

Gamora stomped over to him, getting in his face. "I let you live once, princess!"

Marisol scoffed. She seemed to remember things being the other way around, but she was much too tired to point this out to the assassin.

Instead, she let out a quiet yawn, hoping to finally see Drax and Gamora punch each other's brains out.

Drax stepped closer to her, narrowing his eyes, a deep growl emitting from his throat. "I am not a princess!"

"Hey!" Peter shouted, bringing everyone's attention to himself.

Gamora and Drax stepped away from each other, each looking down awkwardly.

Marisol sighed. Her cousin was two for two on interrupting the fun. She jumped up, stealing Drax's seat next to Groot.

Marisol pouted at her cousin, laying her head back on the headrest. "Why'd you break them up, chico estrella? I wanted to see them claw each others' eyes out."

Rocket looked up from where he was probably making some more explosives. "Me too! Kill him! Murder her!" he egged on. "Death! Death! Death!"

Peter shook his head at his cousin, turning to address everyone. "Nobody is killin' anybody on my ship!" he told them sternly. "We're stuck together until we get the money."

Drax huffed, tossing the Orb back to Peter. "I have no interest in money." He stepped around Quill, leaving the room.

"Great," Peter mumbled, putting the Orb back on the table again. "That means more money for the four of us." Groot made a grunting noise, making Peter acknowledge his mistake. "Five of us," he corrected with another sigh. "Partners."

Gamora looked at him, unamused. Monotonously, she said, "We had an agreement, but I would never be partners with the likes of you."

Marisol nodded in agreement, sitting up. She struggled to keep her eyes open as she forced her words out. "Yup, and I already have two partners. I don't need a third or a fourth."

Peter scoffed, throwing his hands up a little. He couldn't believe their attitudes. After everything they've been through in the last few hours?

"I'll tell my buyer we're on our way," Gamora said. She made like she was going to walk away before turning back to him, a disgusted frown on her face. "And, Quill, your ship is filthy."

Marisol caught him staring at Gamora's ass when she turned away. He didn't stop when she started climbing the ladder to the ship's next level either.

Smirking, Quill said, "Oh, she has no idea. If I had a black light, this would look like a Jackson Pollock painting."

Marisol rolled her eyes. It was disgusting how clear it was he wanted to sleep with her.

It was even more horrendous to think that the two of them were just one shag away from waltzing down the isle; Marisol found herself trying not to think about the scene in her dream where Peter was aiming a blaster at Gamora as she proclaimed her love to him.

She shrugged the memory of the dream away. "Honestly," she sighed. "If you're that thirsty, Primito, just get a drink already."

Peter rolled his eyes at her, not even dignifying her comment with a response. Rocket, however, stood up from his self made bombs, shaking his head slowly at the cousins. "You guys got issues."

After a quick shower (The Milano's faucet was rusty, but at least it was in better condition that the Klyn's ) Marisol changed into a pair of black leather pants and a dark purple crop top under her black jacket.

She felt a little refreshed and a bit of her stamina had returned, but she found herself alone in the halls, which could have ended badly.

Marisol didn't handle being alone very well. She preferred being in the crowds, interacting with people even if they were totally stupid.

Fortunately, she wasn't alone for very long before she found Gamora staring wistfully out the window.

Marisol wasn't sure what was so fascinating about a bunch of burning rocks and gas giants, but she decided not to make fun of her for it. (This time.)

Marisol approached the other woman, hoping her pace wasn't too brisk. She still didn't like Gamora much, but talking to her would be better than being stuck alone.

Gamora raised her brow at her as she came to a stop next to her, leaning against the window pan. "Can I help you?"

Marisol wasn't sure what to say, so she brought up the first thing that had come to her mind. "What's really in that orb?"

When Gamora opened her mouth she held up a finger. "And before you give me any of that 'I don't know' crap, you should know I'm very good at reading people. I'll know if you're lying."

Gamora nodded slowly. She looked out the window, staring blankly at the stars as they passed them by. "It's something dangerous."

"I gathered. But what is it?" Marisol stared at her through squinted eyes. She could already tell the information wasn't going to be easy to squeeze out of her.

Gamora tried very hard not to meet the other woman's eyes. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and she was biting her lip with unease.

A kinder person might have let up once they'd taken note of her discomfort; but Marisol had never been known for being nice.

"What is it?" Marisol pressed. "What could possibly be so dangerous it could scare the Great Assassin Gamora?"

Her words were probably laced with more sarcasm than necessary, but she didn't really care all that much.

Gamora shifted under her gaze, turning her head away from her and closing her eyes.

Marisol stood upright, folding her own arms over herself. "Well? What is it? Because if we're on a ship with something dangerous, I think I deserve to know."

Gamora whirled around at this, looking offended. "I'm not the only one who's brought dangerous weapons on to this ship! That rodent of yours was making explosives, and you didn't seem to care much about that."

Marisol glared back at her. "He's not a rodent. He's Rocket. And he tells me what his weapons are, so I don't have to worry."

Gamora groaned. She started to walk off, but Marisol just followed her. She wasn't going to leave her alone until she got what she wanted.

When she realized this, Gamora rolled her eyes and stopped walking again, turning on her heels to glare back at Marisol. "What happened to staying out of each others business?"

Marisol shrugged. "Seems our business is over lapping at the moment."

Gamora scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. "You don't need to know what's in the orb in order to sell it!"

Marisol squinted at her. "That's debatable. If I don't know what it is how do I know I can't get more money for it?"

"Didn't Quill already tell you it was a rock?" Gamora sighed.

Marisol briefly recalled the stones she'd seen in her dream. "Yes, but I don't understand how a rock can be so dangerous that it causes you to practically quake in your boots. Or lie about not knowing what it is!"

Gamora's gaze fell to the dusty flooring of the Milano. She wrapped her arms around herself again, looking a little like Groot when Marisol and Rocket were scolding him for his bad attitude.

Marisol rolled her eyes, spinning around and marching down the hallway. "Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just go grab it and see what it does for myself."

"Wait!" She had only gotten a few feet away when Gamora leapt forward, grabbing her arm.

Marisol swung around, ready to deck her, but she let go as soon as Mari had stopped walking.

Gamora sighed, looking away again. She picked at her fingernails, speaking so softly that Marisol almost missed what she was saying. "It's an Infinity Stone..."

Marisol raised an eyebrow at that. She was sure Gamora was just making it up, having never heard of such a thing before; but when she searched her face she found no signs of deceit.

"I...don't know which one," Gamora said, still not really looking at the other woman. "But I'm guessing the power stone."

"What's an Infinity Stone?" Marisol asked.

Gamora sighed once again. She turned away so Marisol couldn't see her face, but she still spoke loud enough for her to hear.

"They're what Thanos has been after all this time. There's six of them in total, but this is the first we've found. I was going to sell it, because if Thanos gets a hold of all six stones, he will be able to destroy the galaxy like that." She snapped her fingers for emphasis.

Marisol blanched at the sound, remembering the echo of the snap she'd heard in her dream earlier; the destruction from her first dream came to mind as well.

Xander being reduced to ash. That still un-named place going up in flames as Thanos held his daughter captive and Starlord trained his weapon on her.

"...Sounds intense," Marisol managed.

Gamora nodded slowly, her back still turned. Marisol thought of the destruction in her dreams -- the purple cloud washing over everything in its path and that blue blob plowing over everyone who wasn't fast enough to get out of its way.

She shoved the images back down, focusing on getting the information she wanted and solving the puzzle. "What do they do? These Infinity Stones?"

Gamora turned to face her again, making a face. "I just told you --"

"I meant what do they do individually?"

Gamora eyed her uneasily, and Marisol sighed, rolling her head around in annoyance. It was clear she wasn't going to get a straight answer out of the other woman unless she forced it from her lips herself. 

Marisol folded her arms in front of her, feeling like she had already preformed the motion a million times since she had met the green skinned woman. "Well?" she asked impatiently. 

"It's...complicated. The Collector will be able to explain it better than I can," Gamora said at last. Then, she turned again, leaving Marisol alone once more.

Marisol chased after her hurriedly, much to the other woman's vexation. "The Collector, hm?" Mari mused. "That's what your buyer is called?" 

"Yes," Gamora sighed.

As they turned down a hall to the left, she eyed the dust building up on the window panes, scowling with distaste.

Marisol couldn't blame her. Judging from the random junk piled along the walls, her cousin rarely made an effort to maintain the place. 

Belatedly, she tried to recall if he'd been that way when they were kids. She found that she couldn't really remember, despite her near eidetic memory. 

It had been far too long since Peter Quill had crossed her mind, much less the state of his childhood bedroom.

Hell, she barely remembered what the town they'd come from was called. (Though, in all fairness, she had spent a great deal of time trying to forget it all.) 

Marisol shoved the vile thoughts to the back of her mind where they belonged. Turning her attention back to Gamora, she asked, "How much longer until we get there?" 

"Why do you ask so many questions?" Gamora fired back smoothly.

She maneuvered around a stack of crates, Marisol holding her nose at the rank smell emitting from them as she followed right behind her. (She didn't even want to think about solving the mystery of what was inside if it smelled that bad.)

"I'm bored," Mari told her. 

"Well, is it necessary to pester me with them?" 

"Why does it bother you?" 

Gamora glanced back at her, eyeing the Terran woman suspiciously. It seemed she picked up on the fact that her question was a trap; still, she found herself answering anyways, "Yes. A bit." 

"Then, yeah. It's necessary," Marisol said. 

Gamora rolled her eyes. She whirled around, preparing to make another attempt at leaving Marisol in the dust; but before she could move anywhere, the duo heard shouting coming from one of the rooms to their left. 

Marisol vaguely recalled her cousin saying the wing they were currently in was where all the sleeping quarters were located when he'd been giving them the tour earlier; this was further affirmed when she shifted her gaze to the doorway. 

The room wasn't all that spacious, just a small square area large enough to squeeze in -- what Terrans called --  a king sized bed.

Marisol assumed from all the vines that had attached themselves to the walls that Groot had claimed this room for himself. 

The tree man himself, along with the pilot of the Milano, were stood at the center of the room next to the bed.

They had set out a plethora of random items, plates from the Milano's kitchen mostly; and Groot was shooting dangerously sharp burrs from his arms, Peter tossing their makeshift targets in the air for him to fire at. 

Most of the burrs failed to reach their intended mark, since Groot didn't have a very good aim, but every now and again he'd manage to hit one of the plates, shattering them to pieces. Every time Groot actually hit something, the duo let out cries of joy. 

Marisol rolled her eyes. She was all for fun and games, but she could never really wrap her head around the idea of mindlessly messing around.

She preferred games that provided something of a challenge, a place where she could be allowed to hone in on her strategic skills.

Something to sharpen the mind,  enhance her wits. Games like Galaga and Pac-Man and Chess. 

Moronic and brutish behavior such as this only hindered ones capabilities and diminished any and all brain cells. (Though she wasn't sure her cousin had all that many brain cells in the first place.) 

The ladies ducked as one of the burrs soared from the room, narrowly missing the pair of them.

Gamora growled in annoyance, as the burr lodged itself into the wall behind them. 

"Oh, hey, guys," Quill said, giving them a small wave and flashing Gamora one of those cocky 'I want you' eyes. "Sorry, we were just --" 

"Are you trying to turn Groot into a filthy degenerate like yourself?" Marisol snapped, glaring daggers at her cousin. 

From the way his face contorted at the sound of the word, Starlord had absolutely no idea what it meant. Marisol let out a long, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt a headache coming on.

She could already tell working with him was going to try her patience. "Games should be stimulating, not just oafish smashing!" 

"It's called target practice," Quill defended. 

"Why do you need to practice?" Gamora asked, sending her own glare his way. "Any imbecile can point and shoot a blaster." 

Quill shrugged. "It's just fun." 

"I am Groot," Groot agreed. 

"Yeah, what he said!" Quill nodded, like he even understood a word he'd said. "You ladies need to lighten up." 

Marisol narrowed her eyes at him, having actually understood what her friend had said. "That is not what he said." 

"Whatever. It's still true," Quill said. He prepared to throw another plate into the air. Marisol stepped forward, snatching the plate from his hands. "Hey!" 

"You are not going to dull his intelligence with your feeble-minded, barbaric games!" Marisol hissed. 

"I am Groot," Groot protested. 

Marisol ignored him, her attention firmly set on her cousin as she lay into him. "I worked hard to educate him since he was just a sapling growing from a pot! And I'm not going to have you undo all of that by acting like a buffoon. We use games to enhance and stimulate the mind, not murder our brain cells." 

Quill nodded slowly, though it was obvious that he wasn't taking her seriously even before he opened his mouth again. "In other words, you're a total freakin' kill joy." 

Marisol rolled her eyes at him again, and she heard Gamora sighing behind her, apparently just as exasperated with his behavior as she was.

"Besides, it's totally strategic and stimulating," he insisted, before Marisol could call him an idiot again. 

Gamora made a face at him. She eyed him skeptically, evidently thinking his response was going to be just as stupid as any of his other actions. "How do you figure?" 

"Well, say you have this annoying older cousin," Quill started.

Marisol scowled, already knowing she wasn't going to like what he had to say.

"And she keeps nagging at you and your new friend," Quill went on, "and ruining your fun, and calling you stupid."

He withdrew his blaster from his belt, aiming it at Marisol's feet. "You just 'pew pew' and she'll go away." 

Marisol narrowed her eyes further, emitting a menacing growl from her throat. "Try it, and I will disembowel you, Chico Estrella." 

Then, like a child pushing his luck, Peter fired his blaster upon her feet; Marisol jumped back to avoid getting hit.

He didn't stop shooting until she was forced to back out of the room and down the hall; every time he pulled the trigger, he made little noises, "Pew! Pew! Pew!" 

Marisol growled, rounding the corner so that the lasers couldn't reach her. Gamora was leaning against the wall next to her, having moved when Quill had started moronically firing his blaster to avoid being hit herself. 

She was staring in front of her in much the same way she had when they'd been leaving the prison -- that blank, expressionless look of contempt. 

Marisol glared back at the room around the corner, grumbling curses under her breath.

"Yay, it worked!" she heard Peter cheer. The gleeful call was followed by more shattering of plates and stupid yelling.

"Mi primo es un idiota," she said darkly. 

Gamora sighed, pushing herself off the wall with the shake of her head. "It doesn't matter what species they are, all men are idiots."

Marisol wasn't sure if she'd actually understood the Spanish or if she was just making her own observations, though.

"And we are the only two females on a ship full of them," Gamora added before she could ask which it was.

Marisol turned, raising an eyebrow at her curiously. "Are you saying we should conspire against them and take over the ship?" 

"I'm saying that, even though your dislike for me is obvious -- and frankly you're a bit rude for my liking too -- it would be nice to know I have someone who is...slightly less moronic than the others on my side," Gamora said. 

Marisol scoffed in protest. "Slightly?" 

Gamora gave her a pointed look. "You do your fair share of stupid things." 

Marisol rolled her eyes, but she didn't argue against her point, knowing it was true. "Alright, fine. But I don't do any of that girly crap, like braiding each other's hair and dressing up in skimpy dresses -- unless I want to get laid." 

Gamora made another face. "I don't do any of that either, so you don't have to worry." 

"Good," Marisol said. Gamora nodded in agreement.