Star-Lord crossed his arms and asked, "Since you're not just going to rob it, what exactly are you offering in exchange?"
Lock smiled slightly. "How about I trade you two mix tapes for your share?"
Star-Lord froze, visibly conflicted. Those tapes meant more to him than money, more than most things in the galaxy.
But… ten billion units. Even nostalgia had a price, and ten billion was enough to make anyone pause.
And besides, the man standing in front of him wasn't threatening him — if Lock really wanted the Orb, he wouldn't need to negotiate.
Finally, Star-Lord exhaled through his nose. "No deal. I'd rather buy the tapes with credits."
Lock shook his head. "I'm not trading tapes for credits. But that's not the real offer."
He tilted his head, thoughtful. "What if I add a bouquet?"
Star-Lord blinked. "Flowers?"
Gamora, Rocket, and Groot exchanged confused looks.
They already thought offering two tapes for a cut of the Orb's profits was ridiculous — now he was offering flowers?
Star-Lord didn't answer right away. He hesitated, biting back his emotions, before ultimately saying nothing. Gamora raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. What kind of song — or bouquet — could make Peter Quill hesitate even when offered ten billion credits? She made a mental note to find out.
Lock pressed a button on his wrist.
A holographic projection flared to life, showing a green, peaceful cemetery on Earth. Rows of white stone markers stretched into the distance until the camera stopped on one:
Meredith Quill (1952–1988)
Lock appeared in the recording, dressed in a black suit, holding a bouquet of white flowers. He knelt before the grave and said softly:
"Ms. Meredith… we've never met. But today I've come to give you these flowers on behalf of your son."
He paused, his voice quiet but clear.
"Your boy, Peter, is grown now. Healthy. Strong. Capable. You don't have to worry about him anymore. I hope you can hear this in heaven."
Then, Lock laid the flowers down.
The hologram ended.
Star-Lord didn't speak. His eyes were wet, his throat tight. He tried not to let the others see him cry, but a single tear slipped out anyway.
"You… you really came from Earth?"
"Yeah," Lock said simply.
"How is it?" Star-Lord asked, almost whispering.
"Not too different from when you left. Tech's a little better, but people are the same as always. A few bad guys tried to stir up trouble, but I dealt with them."
Star-Lord nodded, took a deep breath — then suddenly stepped forward and hugged Lock tightly.
"Thank you… for the flowers. For doing that for my mom. Even if you had your own reasons, I… really mean it. Thank you."
Lock was momentarily stunned. He'd been hugged by more men than women lately, and he wasn't sure what that said about his life choices.
Then the ding of the system echoed in his mind:
Star-Lord's Trust Level: 20% — Luck Sharing Activated (20%)
Interesting. Lock hadn't expected to win Peter's trust so easily. Growing up among Ravagers should have made him more guarded.
But clearly, his mother's memory meant everything to him.
No wonder, Lock thought, that when Ego later admitted he caused Meredith's death, Peter turned on him without hesitation — even if it meant giving up immortality and cosmic power.
Star-Lord pulled back, sniffed, and wiped his face. "…It's still not enough."
Lock raised an eyebrow. "What if I throw in news about your father?"
Star-Lord froze. His heart slammed against his ribs.
"Wh—what?"
His mother had always described his father as "a man of light." Peter had never seen a picture, never heard a name, never known why his dad never came back.
Even as a kid, he used to imagine the day his father would return. Now that he was grown, part of him feared the truth — that his father had died long ago.
"Who is he? Is he still alive?"
"Alive," Lock said. "And his lifespan is… let's just say longer than you'd believe."
Peter stared at him, breathing hard. "Deal. You get my cut. Now tell me — who is he? Where is he?"
"His name is Ego," Lock replied calmly. "Don't worry. You'll meet him soon enough. Ask him everything you've been holding back when you see him."
Peter fell silent, thinking. If he really met his father, what would he do?
Punch him in the face for abandoning them?
Ask if there was some reason he'd never come back?
Lock turned his attention to Rocket.
The raccoon's fur bristled as Lock studied him. Rocket was a creature made by cruel hands — a lower animal, torn apart and rebuilt by scientists until he became something new. Brilliant, deadly… and scarred.
The metal studs on his back still ached from the experiments. His lifespan was still that of a raccoon — barely over a decade. He didn't talk about it, but Lock could tell he hated the clock ticking down.
Rocket bared his teeth. "Don't even try that sentimental crap on me. I'm not Quill. I don't have parents to cry over."
Lock's expression didn't change. "I have something else you might care about. A potion that can reshape your body completely — any species, any form. If you want to stop being a raccoon, if you want a new life, even as something else… You could."
Rocket blinked, then snarled. "Liar. There's no such thing in the galaxy."
Lock smiled faintly. "Maybe. Maybe not. You want to pay to find out? It might even make you smarter."
Rocket growled low in his throat, claws digging into the floor.
This guy was baiting him — calling him out, practically daring him to take the offer.
Rocket's pride wouldn't let that go.
"Fine. Deal!" he barked, fangs bared. "But if you're lying, I'll find your planet, track you down, and blast it to dust myself!"
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A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San