Smoke blocked out the natural light emanating from the planet below. The battle ended, debris floating aimlessly in the vacuum of space, while escape pods were hurtling down back to the bright planet below. From the smoke rose a ship speeding out into deeper, darker space. The Milano’s surface of the ship ravaged by scorch marks and holes revealing the internal wiring, caused by the conflict it had just escaped.

“Ok guys, we’re outta’ the deep end now” Peter Quill said laying back in his pilots chair, breathing a sigh of relief. “Yeah, but that don’t ‘scuse you from getting us into that mess in the first place, Quill!.” Rocket retorted, his arms folded as he sat in a nearby seat. “Dude, I didn’t mean to cripple a Majesdanian Light Brigade ship, it looked like space junk!” The human retorted, his voice full of conviction. “UH, SO DOES THIS SHIP! You made the type of mistake I usually do, and lemme’ tell you-” Rocket began, before being interrupted by a presence at the back of the cockpit. “Those creatures are the preeeeetiest I have ever seen in all of the 20 years of my galactic existence” the black pupiled-empath said.

Mantis walked to the two, sitting at a third chair, smiling widely from cheek to cheek. “I wished I could have touched their hair, and try and ascertain what makes it glow” she gleamed, her vocal tone brimming with wonder. “Uh yeah. Well, if you tried to do that with one of them doll, they woulda’ thrown you out the airlook” Rocket replied “Majah-blah-blahs are stuck up assholes…. Just like everyone else in this frickin’ boat”. “I AM GROOT?” a voice echoed down through the ship, “’’CEPT YOU, GROOT. I MEANT TO DIRECT THAT TO OUR PILOT“ the racoon replied.

Quill sat up, beusement adorning his face. “Of course you fire shots at me….. and Rocket, you think everyone in the galaxy is an asshole!”. “Wha? No I don’t” Rocket exclaimed “Just you, everyone on this ship, the Nova Corps, The Kree, Those Golden skinned pricks, The Collector, the Rainbow-holes, the Badoon, Thanos, Nebula, that Asgardian Horse-Freak, that old stalker with the glasses, literally every fricking person on that shithole Tarnax IV… Oh, hey, Whaddaya’ know, I do think that. Good point Quill”.

The outlaw known as Star Lord rolled his eyes, choosing to end the conversation then and there. He reached over to his newly claimed MP3 music playing device, pressing play on the randomiser, and a song began promptly playing.

The three individuals sitting in the cockpit sat, in a stunned silence, before the young empath broke the quietness. “Why does this individual like large posteriors? And why can he not lie about it? Is he being treated with some lie detecting device?” Her question however was not answered. “What happened to music in the past 20 years?” Star Lord said with subdued shock and horror under his breath, as the Milano flew away to its next location.