Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3

Opening Scene

Go to the mortal world, they said. It'll be fun, they said. Yeah, what was more fun than being dangled over a cliffside by the massive, slimy tentacle of a space beast whose bosses you thoroughly pissed off? Gosh, she could hardly contain her joy.

          "Listen, gentlemen." Fallon put on her most innocent smile. "We're all adults here. Surely, we can find a way to talk this out, right? I know there's a nice, non-violent, reasonable way we can—"

          She was cut off by her own groan as the creature's grip around her tightened, and from the center of the smugglers' group, their leader—a Terran man with more tattoos than teeth—stepped forward, waving a hand to signal the creature to bring Fallon closer.

          "I don't think there is, little girl." His tone was so overconfident, his sneer so arrogant, that Fallon would have laughed if her lungs weren't being crushed.

          Little girl? Bolds words, coming from someone so infantile in comparison.

          "I do try to be reasonable," Tattoo-Face continued. "But when someone like you shows up in her little high heels and black dresses, looking to cheat me outta all my money in front of my boys, then I'm not exactly in the mood for reason."

          "Beat you."

          Tattoo-Face's brow furrowed, his arrogance dropping to confusion for a split second. "What?"

          "You said I was looking to cheat you out of your money." Despite her situation, Fallon grinned. "I didn't cheat you; I beat you. Fair and square."

          Tattoo-Face's nostrils flared. "Nobody 'beats' Quetin Chavek."

Terrans were so funny when they got angry.

          "Oh?" Fallon raised her eyebrows. "Then maybe 'Quetin Chavek' isn't the Blinder's Baggage champion he thinks he—ah!"

          The creature's grip tightened again, and Fallon hissed as a sharp, sudden pain sprung into her chest, accompanied by a horrible crack! A rib. That was a rib. But it wasn't a big deal. After all, she had, what, twelve to spare? Twenty? Forty-six? She at least knew the Terran form didn't have over fifty.

          It wasn't until she'd overcome the initial shock of the injury that she realized Chavek's attention had turned elsewhere.

          "You find this funny, man?"

          From the back of the group, a green-skinned alien with three eyes paled. "No, Captain, I just—"

          "Her foolishness is laughable," finished a reptilian man with a comically large gun strapped to his chest, and at his words, Chavek gave a little puff of his chest before turning his attention back to Fallon, eyes alight with a fire that had been merely an ember before.

          "You see that?" Chavek took another step forward, and Fallon's stomach twisted as the beast began drawing her back out over the drop-off. "You didn't just cheat me, girl. You made me look like a fool, and nobody makes Quetin Chavek look like a fool."

          Fallon pursed her lips together. If she was going to get dropped, she could at least go out with the last word. "And Quetin Chavek loves to hear his own name, doesn't he?"

          She was rewarded with the slightest snicker from the crew, along with a rage-fueled reddening from Chavek.

          "You think you're so clever, ya?" He spit the words out like they were poison. "Let's see how far clever gets you when you drop."

          He raised a hand, and Fallon's heart stuttered as the tentacle dropped away. The rest of her was quick to follow.

          The jeers of Chavek and his crew were replaced by the scream of rushing air as Fallon plummeted towards the ground. With every second, she could feel Death drawing closer and closer, until Fallon was fairly certain she could see straight into the bony entity's eyes. But as much as Fallon enjoyed Death's dry company, she had a mission to complete, one she wasn't going to lose before it could even start. She'd be fine. All she had to do was given a little wave of her hands, and—

          Fallon stumbled backwards as the ground reappeared beneath her feet, earning a chorus of grumbles from street goers as they swerved to avoid her. But nobody questioned, of course. The entire world could turn to jelly, and nobody on Dolo-Mayan would question it. But it was that lack of concern that made the casino-riddled planet the perfect place to bide her time.

          Not that she'd be biding it much longer. In fact, one check of the timestreams told her she was going to be late. And so, with another quick flick of the hands to skip from her dress to her suit, Fallon dove into the crowd.

          There was a birthday she needed to crash.