In the dead of night, Star-Lord lay in the communal bunk room with his eyes wide as saucers, completely motionless.
More than a dozen prisoners slept in a room under ten square meters. This was what they called a "human bed."
Surrounded by the unique mixed scent of alien body odor, an alien on his left hugged his waist like he was hugging a wife; on his right, someone faced him with their ass while snoring and scratching their pale belly.
Damn it, had the sound of fingernails scraping skin always been this loud?
"Why do that tree and that woman get private cells?" Star-Lord muttered to himself.
"From what I've observed, that's just how this prison works. Dangerous prisoners and strong fighters get assigned individual cells."
A voice came from the pile of bodies to the east.
Star-Lord frowned. "And who are you?"
"Peter Parker. The Nova Empire caught me and brought me here a few months ago."
Star-Lord recalled the voice and matched it to the young man he had heard when entering prison earlier that day.
"Your name is Peter too?"
"Why 'too'? What's your name?"
"My name is... well, Star-Lord."
"Cool. There's a band on Earth called Star-Lord too—but you probably wouldn't know that. So, do you have a star or something?"
Star-Lord frowned at that. "That's strange. There's also a band called Star-Lord where I'm from."
Now Peter frowned. "Where are you from?"
"Missouri."
"What?" Peter shot upright.
The aliens nearby frowned too, but they were sleeping deeply and merely turned over. Peter hurriedly covered his mouth.
"Why are you reacting so strongly? Is there something wrong with Missouri?" Star-Lord could not make sense of it.
"You're from Earth!"
"I'm not. I told you, I'm from Missouri..."
A more mature voice came from the pile