AlienWarlord
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C28 I’m Star-Lord
🕑 Added 2024-04-01 08:07:14 +0000 UTCThe creaking of metal against metal reverberated through the corridor as a prison cell door swung open. With a brutish shove, the Kree soldiers practically threw Nebula inside, causing her to stumble forward as the cell door slammed shut behind her.
Swiftly turning around, she yelled, “Let me out! You have no right to hold me!”
“Shut your mouth!” one of the soldiers shouted back, poking one of Nebula’s confiscated batons through a gap in the door, sending her crashing to the floor, convulsing from the electricity.
“Haha!” Their laughter, cold and mocking, trailed off as they backed away from the cell, taking the baton with them.
Alone, Nebula found herself sprawled across the cold, hard floor, pain radiating from every injury she had endured. She pushed herself up, and with a fierce cry, she unleashed her frustration on the unyielding door, kicking it repeatedly as if her sheer will could break through the durasteel.
*bang… bang… bang…* Each thud was a release, a desperate attempt to vent the anger and hurt that boiled within her.
But as her energy waned, so too did the fire of her anger, leaving in its wake a crushing sense of despair. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her body trembling not just from exertion but from the onslaught of emotions she struggled to contain.
Nebula sank to the floor, her back against the cold, unforgiving metal, tears welling up in her eyes. “Why?” she whispered to the uncaring walls, the question barely audible. “Why is my life always like this?”
The echo of her own voice in the empty cell was the only answer she received. Exhausted and defeated, Nebula curled up on the floor, the tears that she had fought so hard to keep at bay now flowing freely.
And in the quiet of her cell, accompanied only by the echo of her sobs, Nebula was struck by a saddening realization: no matter where she went, and no matter how hard she tried, life always seemed to find a way to knock her back down.
————
Meanwhile, as Nebula was getting locked away, Peter and Windu sat across from Ronan the Accuser, the soldiers that followed them waited outside, guarding the door to the opulent meeting room.
Despite the gravity of the moment, Peter couldn’t help but scrutinize Ronan, his instincts tingling with skepticism. ‘His smile is creeping me out…’
Ronan’s initial words were laced with a veneer of gratitude, his voice smooth, almost disarming. “I commend the Republic's efforts in seeking peace amidst such trying times as these no doubt are. The sacrifices made by all parties have not gone unnoticed, especially by me.”
Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Ronan’s cordial demeanor seemed at odds with everything he knew about the man—a warmonger whose hands were stained with the blood of countless innocents. ‘This isn’t the Ronan I expected,’ he thought, wary of the words that felt too polished, too rehearsed.
As the conversation began, Peter decided to cut to the chase, uncomfortable with Ronan’s odd behavior. “Let’s not dance around the topic. You know why we’re here. So… is the Kree Empire willing to negotiate peace?”
“Yes, of course.” Ronan immediately agreed, but something told Peter that he didn’t mean what he said.
Windu followed after him, leaning forward in his chair. “Good, we must find a way to end this conflict as swiftly as possible. Too many innocent lives have been lost already.”
Ronan nodded thoughtfully, his expression seemingly open and considerate. “Indeed, the preservation of life is paramount.”
Peter, however, was not convinced. He leaned in, eyes narrowed. “Really?” he asked, voice laced with suspicion. “Given what we've heard, it seems like you haven't shown much concern for the lives of innocents...”
Windu gave Peter a quick Look, seemingly unhappy with his question. After all, they’re trying to negotiate peace, not throw around accusations that could very well sour the mood and ruin their mission.
Ronan paused, his gaze shifting as if choosing his words carefully. “Unfortunately, in the nature of war, casualties are inevitable, regardless of our caution,” he responded with a hint of feigned melancholy. Yet, his words completely avoided Peter’s accusation, justifying his war crimes as if they were mere accidents.
"Yes, but let's focus on the future," Windu interjected, hoping to get back on track. "We're aiming for a future free from war and its fallout. How about we organize a meeting with the Nova Empire to work out the specifics? We'd act as mediators, of course. To ensure both sides are heard and a fair, balanced resolution is agreed upon.”
Ronan paused, then spoke carefully, “A peaceful future is all the Kree Empire can hope for, but the situation is complicated. I’m afraid that meeting with the Nova Empire now isn’t possible. We have long-standing issues and rebuilding trust would take time...”
He shifted, a hint of evasion in his voice. “Also, while our ruler, the Supreme Intelligence, is open to the idea of peace, a final decision hasn’t been made. Suggesting a meeting without full leadership support might be too soon, maybe even risky. It’s not the right time yet. But that doesn’t mean we’re not open to it, just that we need to be careful and consider everything involved.”
Peter’s frustration bubbled to the surface. “It sounds to me like you’re just making excuses and stalling,” he accused, unable to hold back. “Does the Kree Empire truly want peace, or are we just here to listen as you spout bullsh*t?”
Ronan’s lip twitched ever so slightly, but ultimately, his expression remained unchanged, the facade of diplomacy uncracked. “I understand your concerns. Rest assured, our discussions are a step towards the peace we all desire.”
Peter exchanged a glance with Windu, both recognizing the roundabout tactic. Ronan was playing them, weaving a narrative of cooperation while strategically dodging any commitment.
With each evasive response, Ronan’s strategy unfolded—a charade of peace talks to keep the Republic happy, but ultimately at arm’s length, so as not to intrude on his war against the Nova Empire.
Peter’s patience wore thin as Ronan deflected every concrete proposal with excuses of internal politics and the need for further deliberation. The realization that Ronan had no intention of reaching a genuine agreement was a bitter pill to swallow.
Even with clear signs of Ronan's deceit, he kept pushing for more peace talks, suggesting future meetings with what seemed like real sincerity. His ability to steer the conversation away from hard truths to vague ideas of peace was frustratingly clever.
As Ronan stood up, seemingly ending the meeting, he extended his hand, his voice smooth. “Thank you for this fruitful discussion. I’m hopeful for what our future talks will bring,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
Peter exchanged a look with Windu, both sensing the emptiness behind the words, neither reaching over to shake his hand.
Seeing that they refused to shake his hand, Ronan’s expression shifted subtly, his smirk revealing a glimmer of satisfaction. He had recognized their skepticism and suspicions, understanding that they were likely onto his ruse.
Yet, he knew they were powerless to confront him directly. As ambassadors in this delicate negotiation, they were bound by protocols and expectations; they couldn’t simply lash out or initiate a confrontation. This restraint played well into Ronan’s hands, allowing him to maintain the upper hand.
With a slight, smug smile, Ronan smoothly withdrew his unshaken hand, nodding to the duo. “Well, it appears I must attend to some pressing matters. My men will escort you back to your ship,” he stated, his tone casual yet dismissive, as if concluding a trivial conversation rather than a critical negotiation.
As Ronan exited the room, leaving the two to ponder their next moves, Peter turned to Windu, a mix of frustration and annoyance in his voice. “Honestly, even though I was scared we'd get ambushed and have to fight our way out of here, I kind of wish we had. Anything would’ve been better than the cruel and unusual torture we just experienced...”
Windu, with a slight scoff that carried a world of agreement, nodded. “It’s clear that the Kree have no intentions of peace. This was nothing more than a charade to appease the Republic. They’re simply stalling and playing games to ensure that we don’t join the war.”
Peter let out a small chuckle. “Yeah right, like the Senate would ever vote to join someone else’s war out of the kindness of their hearts. The Republic doesn’t even have a standing army…” He said, ‘At least not yet…’
“True, it’s unlikely, but it’s always possible… The Republic could decide to build an army at any time, after all.”
————
As Peter and Windu were led back through the metallic corridors of the Kree flagship, Peter’s thoughts were far from the failed negotiation, refusing to let Ronan the Accuser get to him.
Instead, a haunting image lingered in his mind, that of a young girl, her face marred by distress and weariness, being dragged away by the guards. Something about her struck a chord within him, a flicker of familiarity that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.
After some thought, Peter turned to the soldiers escorting them, a mix of concern in his voice. “What happened to that girl from earlier? Is she alright?”
With a sadistic smile, one of the soldiers replied, “We gave her a good thrashing, shocked her a bit for fun, then tossed her in a cell. She’s probably still there, licking her wounds.”
Peter felt a surge of rage, his hands clenching into fists. Beside him, Windu’s expression hardened, though his stance remained controlled, a stark contrast to Peter’s emotional state.
Without warning, Peter’s arms shot out, a telekinetic force unseen yet powerful slamming the soldiers into the nearby, metal walls. They crumpled to the ground, unconscious before they could even comprehend what had happened.
Windu, taken aback, stared at Peter. “What are you doing?!” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief and a hint of admonishment.
Peter, undeterred, shot back, “Doing what a real Jedi would do.” He approached a soldier, still dazed on the ground, and gave him a sharp slap to the face, jolting him awake.
Windu watched, speechless as Peter leaned in, his focus intense. Then, with a wave of his hand and a calm yet commanding tone, he spoke, “Where is the prison? And which part of it is the girl in? Explain in detail…”
Windu’s mouth dropped open as the soldier's eyes glazed over, and responded with the precise location, his voice devoid of its earlier sadistic pleasure.
With the information he needed, Peter bashed the soldier’s head against the wall, sending him to sleep alongside his comrades. Turning away, he marched down the hall, headed towards the prison.
“Peter stop!” Windu commanded, his voice firm.
“…” But Peter didn’t reply and continued walking, leaving Windu to decide whether to follow him or not…
Sighing, Windu took a deep breath before trailing after his padawan, knowing that he would later regret his decision. ‘This kid will be the death of me…’
A/N: 1857 words :) 2/4 done ✅ BTW, we’ve now gotten to the point where the next chapters will be released to King’s($20/month patrons).
Knights($5/month patrons) = up to 5 chapters ahead of public releases
Princes($10/Month patrons) = up to 10 chapters ahead of public releases
Kings($20/Month patrons) = All chapters as soon as they’re done
