AlienWarlord
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C82 I’m Star-Lord
🕑 Added 2024-05-15 12:01:11 +0000 UTCThe med bay door slid closed with a gentle hiss, sealing Natasha inside as Peter locked up behind him and walked off to address his assorted and unusual crew. They were all gathered around in the small, cluttered lounge of their ship.
"Listen up, everyone," Peter began, his voice firm yet calm. "Our guest needs to rest. I don't want anyone bothering her. She's never seen anything like you guys before, and we need to ease her into the whole alien thing without overwhelming her…”
Murmurs of agreement passed through the group, though Groot tilted his head, looking puzzled. "I am Groot?" he intoned, which Peter interpreted with a small nod.
"Yeah, buddy, even you. Just for now, until she gets her bearings," Peter nodded.
With the crew briefed, Peter's demeanor shifted as a spark lit up his eyes. "Also, I'm going to McDonald's," he announced with a tone that mixed nostalgia and excitement. It had been years since he'd been on Earth, and the thought of tasting something as mundanely terrestrial as fast food was unexpectedly thrilling.
The crew exchanged blank looks, their confusion evident. None of them, aside from Cosmo—who had her own earthly origins—had even heard of McDonald's, let alone understood the significance of such a place.
"What is MacDonald's again?" Howard mispronounced the name, sipping his martini with an air of genuine curiosity.
"It's a place on Earth where they make some of the best food you've never tasted," Peter explained, his mouth watering as he listed the items he craved. "Chicken nuggets, fries, double quarter pounders..."
Of course, Peter knew in his heart that McDonald's wasn’t considered good cuisine, and by all culinary standards, it wasn't anywhere near the best food Earth had to offer.
But to him, McDonald's was more than just fast food; it was a bridge to his past lives—both the child who had grown up savoring these treats with his mother, and the man who romanticized the little comforts of his home planet.
The fond memories tied to those simple meals made the flavors taste better than any gourmet dish could.
(A/N: Man, this chapter really feels like a McDonald’s Advertisement. Someone from McD’s corporate better send me some money after this one…)
Cosmo couldn't contain her excitement. She began pacing around Peter, her tail wagging furiously. "Can I come? Can I come? Can I come?" she barked eagerly.
Peter laughed, nodding. "Yes, Cosmo, you can come. But you gotta take off your suit, okay? We can't draw too much attention."
Reluctantly agreeing, Cosmo dashed off to the cargo bay to prepare, her voice echoing back, "I'll meet you at the ramp!"
As Peter followed, the rest of the crew grumbled their disappointment at being left behind. Peter could only offer a shrug and a promise. "Sorry, guys. I'll bring back something for everyone, I promise."
Stepping out of the ship, Peter and Cosmo found the sun high in the sky. They mounted the speeder bike parked nearby, the engine purring to life under Peter's expert hands. With a quick glance at Cosmo, who had removed her suit and now looked like any other Earth dog, Peter revved the engine.
"Let's go home, girl," he said with a grin.
The wind whipped past them as they zoomed toward Los Angeles, the nearest city. It was a simple mission: get in, indulge in some long-missed Earth cuisine, and get out. But as the city skyline drew nearer, Peter couldn't help but feel that rush of returning home, even if it was just for a taste.
…
After a short trip, Peter carefully maneuvered the speeder behind a low hill on the outskirts of the city, a safe distance from the bustling streets. He and Cosmo quickly covered the sleek vehicle with a dusty tarp, securing it with rocks to blend in with the surroundings. Satisfied that their ride was well-hidden, they set off on foot.
As they approached the bustling city, Peter couldn't help but beam with joy. Although he wasn't from Los Angeles—his roots lay in a small town in Missouri—the universal familiarity of chain stores, car-filled streets, and human-packed sidewalks sparked a deep sense of nostalgia in him. He walked through the city with a goofy grin, pointing out the common sights to Cosmo.
"See that, Cosmo? That’s a Long John Silvers. We had one of those about half an hour from my house. The food there is absolutely horrendous. Never thought I’d miss it so much," he chuckled, reminiscing about the flavors of home that seemed both distant and comforting.
Cosmo wagged her tail, picking up on Peter's excitement and happiness, though the nuances of his nostalgia were lost on her. She was more interested in the new scents and sights of Earth, her nose twitching as they passed each new source of intriguing smells.
They soon reached the familiar golden arches of McDonald's, a symbol that was as American as any could be, and universally recognizable. Peter's excitement peaked as they entered. The smell of fries and grilled burgers filled the air, pulling him back to countless memories of quick meals grabbed on the go with his mother.
"This is it, girl," Peter said to Cosmo as they stood in line. "The real Earth experience. Let's load up and bring some back for the crew."
With a boyish grin plastered on his face, Peter approached the counter, placing an order large enough to feed an entire crew of hungry spacefarers—chicken nuggets, several different burgers, heaps of fries, and even some pies for dessert.
As the cashier rang up the total, Peter chatted away to Cosmo about how much everyone was going to enjoy this feast. "You think Rocket will go for the Big Mac or the nuggets first?" he mused aloud, already picturing the delighted chaos back on the ship.
However, as the cashier announced the total and waited for payment, Peter's smile faltered. He patted his pockets in a sudden panic, a sinking realization dawning on him. Digging through his pockets, he found only a few credits and some wupiupi, his eyes widened in alarm.
"Uh, do you accept Republic Credits?" Peter asked jokingly, wasting his breath.
The cashier, a young man already worn out from a long shift and just wanting to get through the day, looked at Peter as if he had grown a second head. "Republic what? Dude, we only take dollars here," he said with a tired sigh, pointing to the sign that listed acceptable payment methods.
Realizing his blunder, Peter glanced back at the growing line of impatient customers behind him. Their expressions ranged from annoyed to sympathetic, but all were clearly eager for him to resolve his situation and move on.
"Uh… We’ll be back," Peter muttered, stepping out of line. He offered an apologetic smile to the cashier and the other customers before turning to leave. Cosmo, sensing the change in plans, looked up at him with a disappointed whine, her tail drooping as the smells of the food they wouldn't be getting continued to fill her senses.
As Peter and Cosmo stepped outside, the glaring midday sun did little to lift the sinking feeling in Peter's stomach. Despite the mishap, his mind was already racing for solutions. He was not one to give up easily, especially not on a feast he had been dreaming of since he was first kidnapped from Earth.
His gaze swept across the street, landing on an ATM nestled beside a bustling café. A spark of mischief lit up his eyes. "Well, looks like we've got another option, Cosmo," he said, nodding towards the machine. Cosmo perked up, her attention shifting to follow Peter's line of sight.
Striding across the street, Peter confidently approached the ATM. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching too closely, then placed his hand on the machine.
Concentrating, his hand glowed with the force as he tapped into the ATM using Mechu Deru. ‘Come on, please work…’ he hoped, his stomach grumbling.
With a mental nudge, Peter bypassed the ATM's security, a surprisingly easy feat compared to the encrypted systems he was used to dealing with in space. The machine activated in response to his touch, and without warning, started ejecting bills in a rapid, almost violent stream.
Both Peter and Cosmo jumped back in surprise, but it only took a moment for them to spring into action.
“Haha! I’m rich!” Laughing, Peter scrambled to catch the flying bills, stuffing them into his pockets as quickly as they shot out.
Cosmo tried to grab some with her mouth, though she mostly ended up pushing them towards Peter with her nose, as she wasn’t allowed to use her telekinesis in public unless it was absolutely necessary.
The machine continued to make it rain cash for several seconds before tapering off, leaving a small pile of stray bills fluttering on the sidewalk.
Peter looked around sheepishly, hoping their sudden windfall hadn't attracted too much attention. A few passersby glanced curiously, but the busy street provided enough distraction to keep them from questioning the scene too closely.
"Guess we got our lunch money, huh?" Peter chuckled, giving Cosmo a gentle pat. The dog wagged her tail, pleased with their success despite the unconventional method.
With his pockets now bulging with more than enough cash to cover their McDonald's order, Peter led Cosmo back across the street. This time, their entry into the fast food restaurant was marked by a confident stride and cash filled pockets.
Returning to the counter, Peter placed his order again, this time handing over the cash with a flourish. The cashier, the same one as before, raised an eyebrow but said nothing, likely chalking up the earlier confusion to a simple misunderstanding.
As they waited for their food, Peter leaned against the counter, a satisfied smirk on his face. "I can’t wait to eat…" he said, a dreamy look on his face.
————
Moments earlier, inside the bustling McDonald's, out of view, sat Nick Fury and Phil Coulson. The two agents seated across from one another in a booth, the table strewn with papers and case notes, deeply engrossed in a conversation about the mysterious circumstances surrounding Agent Marco's demise.
As they pored over the data, Phil took a bite of his burger, his eyes scanning a report. "So, we think Marco was murdered by the same person who killed the target he was sent to spy on," he muttered, eyes flicking between the papers and Fury.
Fury, sipping his soda, nodded grimly. "And whoever's behind it is good. We need to tread carefully," he said, his gaze sharp and calculating.
Silence enveloped them for a moment as they ate, and seconds later, their conversation took an odd turn. "You know, in Paris, you can buy beer right at McDonald's," Fury said, biting his burger.
Coulson raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. "Really?”
Fury nodded, popping a couple of fries into his mouth. “Oh yeah, and you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese over there?"
"They don’t call it a quarter pounder?" Coulson asked, realizing that they were taking a break from the case.
"Nope, they've got the metric system. They wouldn’t know what a Quarter Pounder is." Fury regaled him with his worthless worldly knowledge.
"So, what do they call it?" Coulson asked, his interest piqued.
Fury paused for effect, enjoying the moment. "A Royale with Cheese," he finally said with a scoff.
Coulson repeated, tasting the words alongside his food, "Royale with Cheese. And what about a Big Mac?"
"Big Mac’s a Big Mac, but they call it 'Le Big Mac,'" Fury explained, his tone light.
"And a Whopper?" Coulson continued, now fully engaged in the topic.
Fury shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "I don’t know, I didn’t go into a Burger King. Never liked the food…"
(A/N: Pulp Fiction reference. If anyone is confused, google Royal with cheese scene.)
Soon enough, their extremely engaging discussion was abruptly interrupted when a man and a dog entered the building. The duo was hard to miss—Peter's excited energy and the sheer novelty of Cosmo, a dog wearing an oddly sophisticated collar, drew curious glances from other customers.
Coulson paused mid-sentence, his attention shifting to the new arrivals. "Are pets even allowed in here?" he muttered under his breath, eyeing Cosmo curiously.
Cosmo, hearing his scrutiny thanks to her heightened dog senses, glanced over at the agents. Her expression, if one could read emotions from a dog, seemed almost offended. Fury, noticing the exchange, raised an eyebrow but chose to dismiss it with a casual shrug.
The agents watched as Peter approached the counter, his excitement palpable as he ordered almost every item on the menu.
However, the situation took an odd turn when it came time to pay. Peter's mention of "Republic Credits" caught both agents off guard. Fury's interest, already piqued by the dog's intelligent behavior, sharpened. "Republic Credits?" he whispered, his instincts telling him that there was more to this man and his canine companion than met the eye.
As Peter and Cosmo left the restaurant empty-handed, Fury couldn't keep his eyes off them. He watched intently as they walked across the street to an ATM. From their vantage point, the two agents observed the ATM suddenly begin spitting out money at an alarming rate, with Peter scrambling to collect it.
Coulson's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "That's not normal," he commented dryly, his voice low.
"No, it's not," Fury agreed, his mind racing through the implications. "There's something off about them..."
————
Back at the ship…
After an hour of deep meditation, Natasha ceased her efforts, feeling the strain of intense focus begins to wane. She rose from her position and approached the med bay doors, ready to explore her new environment.
A slight push on the door confirmed her suspicion; it was locked. Peter had left her sealed inside, but Natasha Romanoff was not one to be easily trapped.
Surveying the room, her eyes landed on the medical equipment scattered around. She was trained to adapt and use whatever tools available to achieve her goals.
Approaching the keypad beside the door, she picked up a thin, metal probe and a pair of tweezers from a nearby tray. Methodically, she pried open the keypad's casing and began to fiddle with the wires inside. Within moments, sparks flew and the circuit shorted, causing the doors to slide open with a hiss.
Stepping out into the corridor, Natasha felt a surge of adrenaline. She had no idea where she was—perhaps some sort of underground bunker? The metal hallways did not resemble any facility she had previously encountered.
Treading softly, she moved through the dimly lit hallways, alert to any sounds. The ship was eerily quiet, adding to her unease. As she turned a corner, Natasha stumbled upon a room where Howard, an anthropomorphic duck, was leisurely making himself a drink. Her training had prepared her for many things, but the sight of a walking, human-like duck was not one of them.
“W-What…” Her shock was palpable, but before she could gather herself, the door on the opposite side of the room opened, and Groot walked in. The sight of a living, walking tree rooted her to the spot, her mind struggling to comprehend what she was seeing.
One by one, other members of the alien crew entered the room—each unique and more bizarre than the last, many of them animalistic. “?!”
Overwhelmed by the surreal parade of creatures, Natasha's mind, taxed from the earlier mental exertions and the barrage of new information, reached its limit. Her vision blurred, and the edges of her consciousness frayed as she struggled to maintain composure.
With one last glance around the room, Natasha's strength gave out, and she fainted, collapsing to the floor as the reality of her situation overwhelmed her senses. The room spun around her, and the last thing she saw was the alien faces of Peter’s crew gathering around before darkness claimed her.
A/N: 2688 words :) I’m not gonna lie, writing this chapter made me hungry for some McD’s…
Comments
Sebastian
Lol how could Howard not make a crack about seeing the beautiful black widow
Drake
i second this question
zain sad
what year is it right now?
