I’m Star-Lord (SW Xover)

C102 Crash Landing

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——————

Soon enough, Peter finished going through the box of cassettes, selecting the ones he wanted and placing them carefully on the counter. He paid for them, thanked Stan Lee respectfully, as he didn’t want to anger an all-powerful god, and said his goodbyes. "Thanks for the help. And tell Jerry I said thanks as well…”

Stan Lee smiled warmly. "Anytime, kid. Enjoy the music."

Peter nodded and walked out of the store, his grandparents following closely. As they stepped onto the sidewalk, Tony came running out after them, a determined look on his face.

"Wait!" Tony called out, catching up to them. "I'll give you a thousand dollars for that cassette."

Peter's grandparents gasped in shock, but Peter just looked amused. "Not interested," he said, shaking his head.

Tony grimaced, clearly frustrated but not willing to give up. "Five thousand dollars."

Peter chuckled, enjoying the interaction. "Nope."

"Ten thousand," Tony insisted, his tone growing more desperate.

Peter's amusement only grew. "Sorry, still not selling."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Fifty thousand dollars."

Peter's grandparents exchanged worried glances, but Peter just raised an eyebrow. "Nope."

"A hundred thousand," Tony said through gritted teeth.

Peter smirked. "Nice try, but no."

Tony's frustration was palpable, but he pressed on. "Five hundred thousand dollars."

Peter's grandparents looked like they might faint, but Peter remained unfazed. "Not happening."

Tony took a deep breath, clearly reaching the end of his patience. "One million dollars!” He shouted, unwilling to give up. 

At this point, it was no longer about the money or the cassette; it was about winning and making Peter concede. Tony knew that with just a single call he could get a matching cassette delivered to him by the end of the day, and it would cost infinitely less than his current offer. But he didn’t want just any cassette anymore; he wanted Peter's.

Jason and Anne looked like they were about to have heart attacks. "Peter, maybe you should just sell it," Jason suggested, his voice trembling. “We can always find another one…”

Peter glanced at his grandparents with a reassuring smile before turning back at Tony, his smile widening. "No deal."

Tony stared at him, bewildered and shocked. "Are you serious?" he asked, genuinely baffled. “What idiot would turn down a million dollars?”

Peter shrugged. "It's not about the money for me. This cassette means something to me. And honestly, seeing you so desperate to buy it is pretty entertaining."

Tony let out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. "You really are something else, kid."

Peter shrugged, still smiling. "I get that a lot."

With that, Peter turned and walked away, his grandparents by his side, leaving Tony standing there, utterly flabbergasted, a dumbfounded expression on his face. 

Just as he started to process what had happened, Tony rushed after them, calling out, "Wait!"

Peter turned around, raising an eyebrow. "What? Is it a billion now?"

Tony smirked. "Would you hand over the tape if it was?"

Peter shook his head. "No, I don’t need money." It wasn't a lie either, as Earth money was kind of useless to him, and it was so easily acquirable if he really needed it.

Tony frowned, puzzled. "So, you're rich?" He asked, guessing that Peter was wealthy already. After all, who would turn down a billion dollars for a single cassette tape?

Peter shook his head again. "Nope. In fact, I'm as poor as they come. No house, no car, no bank account, and only some pocket money that I stole from an ATM a few days ago." He revealed, knowing it would ignite Tony’s curiosity. 

His grandparents gasped, their expressions turning to shock. "Peter, are you serious?" Jason asked, his voice filled with concern.

Anne added, "You better be lying."

Tony, on the other hand, looked at Peter with a newfound interest. The admission of theft didn't faze him; in fact, it made Peter even more intriguing. "You hacked an ATM?" Tony asked, his curiosity piqued.

Peter shrugged, nonchalant. "I didn’t hurt anyone. I just made it spit out money."

Tony's eyes lit up as he stepped closer, his voice dropping into rapid techno babble. "How did you do it? Did you use a skimmer, or was it a software exploit? Did you override the encryption protocol, or did you brute-force the firmware?"

Peter just smirked, enjoying Tony's excitement. "Something like that." He answered cryptically. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some music to listen to."

With that, Peter turned again, heading down the street, but his grandparents paused and turned to Tony. Jason extended his hand. "Mr. Stark, I'm Jason Quill, and this is my wife, Anne. We wanted to offer our sympathies for the loss of your parents. Howard was a remarkable man."

Anne nodded, a gentle smile on her face. "We were in the army, and we met Howard many times. Although we weren’t close, we knew him fairly well. He was always dedicated to his work and to helping others. Stark Industries has done a lot for the military and I think that I can speak for every soldier when I say we appreciate everything."

Tony shook their hands, a bittersweet smile crossing his face. "Thank you. It means a lot to hear that."

Jason nodded. "Take care, Mr. Stark. We need to catch up to our grandson." With that, they hurried to rejoin Peter, who was already listening to one of his new cassettes, lost in his own world.

Tony stood there, watching them go, feeling a mix of emotions. He had met an interesting kid who had turned down a million dollars without batting an eye, and his grandparents had known his deadbeat dad. It was a lot to take in.

As they walked off, Tony held his watch up to his mouth and pressed a button. "Jarvis, I need you to do a background check on Jason, Anne, and Peter Quill... especially Peter. He’s the most interesting of the bunch…"

Jarvis responded promptly. "Yes, sir."

Tony walked over to his Lamborghini, climbed in, and started the engines his radio blaring as the car started. Smirking at the song that played, he turned up the volume and drove off, his mind racing with thoughts about the intriguing family he had just encountered.

Play Whoomp! (There It Is) by Tag Team

Party-people!

Yeah,

Tag Team music, in full effect!

That's me, DC The Brain Supreme, and my man Steve Roll'n!

We're kickin the flow!

We're kickin' the flow!

And it goes a little something like this!

Tag Team, back again

Check it to wreck it, let's begin

Party on, party people, let me hear some noise

DC's in the house, jump, jump, rejoice

Says there's a party over here, a party over there

Wave your hands in the air, shake your derriere

These three words mean you're gettin' busy,

Whoomp, there it is! Hit me!

Whoomp, there it is!

Whoomp, there it is!

Whoomp, there it is!

…

..

.

As Peter and his grandparents walked back, Jason and Anne couldn't help but ask, "Peter, why didn’t you accept the money? A million dollars is a lot."

Peter shrugged, looking nonchalant. "I meant what I said. I really don’t need the money. I have literal superpowers. If I wanted or needed money, I could make it fairly easily. Hell, even without my powers, I could go off-planet and mine asteroids or even buy some gold for cheap and bring it back. After all, the greater galaxy doesn’t value gold as highly as Earth does. I don’t need Tony Stark's money."

Jason and Anne nodded slowly, realizing that if Peter wanted to, he could probably be even richer than the Starks.

Peter continued with a grin, "Besides, it was fun to mess with Tony Stark like that. I don’t think he’s used to people telling him no, the spoiled b*stard."

His grandmother lightly swatted his shoulder, an amused smile on her face. "Watch your language."

Peter chuckled, noticing the small chuckle coming from his grandfather as well. "Yeah, yeah. But you have to admit, it was pretty funny."

Jason smiled, shaking his head. "It was, Peter. It definitely was."

They continued their walk, the mood light and filled with laughter, enjoying the unique experience of the day. 

————

Later that night…

Across the country, in upstate New York at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, the mansion, an expansive and stately structure, was enveloped in a serene silence. Its numerous windows gleamed faintly in the moonlight, revealing an interior filled with classrooms, dormitories, and state-of-the-art training facilities for young mutants.

The children and many of the teachers were sound asleep, the day's lessons and activities having worn them out. In his office, Professor Charles Xavier, a dignified-looking man in his mid-forties, with a bald head and wise blue eyes, sat in his sleek wheelchair, gazing out of the window at the night sky above.

[Insert picture of Professor X here]

Across the room, the television was still on, casting a soft glow as it played a recent news interview with Bolivar Trask, a small man with a powerful presence, his suit impeccably tailored to his short frame, his mustache and glasses giving him an air of intellect and benevolence. 

[Insert picture of Dr. Trask/Peter Dinklage here]

But despite his mild-mannered appearance, Charles knew the truth about Trask—a ruthless, cold-hearted, arrogant, and genocidal xenophobe obsessed with the extinction of the mutant race.

Trask's voice filled the room, dripping with false altruism as he spoke about his company's mission to improve the human condition and his own wariness of all things mutant related. 

The news anchor leaned forward, his expression skeptical. "We are talking about a tenth of a tenth of a tenth of our population. If these Mutants, as you describe them, are already living among us, then they are living here peacefully. Why should we be so concerned?"

Trask adjusted his glasses and replied, "Allow me to read something to you."

"Please," the news anchor said, leaning back.

Trask opened a folder, revealing a document inside. "This was acquired from a friend of mine in the CIA," he began, his voice steady. "It's a dissertation written by a mutant at Oxford University. And I quote: 'To Homo Neanderthalensis, his mutant cousin, Homo Sapiens,' which is us, 'was an aberration. The arrival of the mutated human species, Homo Sapiens, was followed by the immediate extinction of their less evolved kin.'" Trask closed the folder with a snap and looked directly into the camera. "Well, now we are the Neanderthal, so what happens to us?”

Each word fanned the flames of anti-mutant sentiments around the world, and Charles had to hold in his rage, refusing to look at the screen. He knew that doing so would only make him angrier, especially since it was his own words that the little goblin was reading, taken out of context of course, which made it all even more infuriating.

Thankfully, this wasn't his first time hearing this interview, as it was only a rerun, helping him to contain his rising fury.

But suddenly, as Trask's droning continued, something caught the professor's attention. “?!”

Outside, the night sky lit up, and a flaming chunk of metal descended like a falling star, crashing into the forest behind the school. The impact shook the ground, like a small earthquake, rattling the mansion's foundations.

Alarmed, Charles muttered to himself, "What is that?”

A/N: 1937 words :)