Happy Halloween! Here's a crackshot Halloween fic because I was feeling in the mood. Please don't take this too seriously.
(In note to my other fics, I've been extremely busy with school but I should have them updated soon!)
Enjoy!
Peter Quill liked to think of himself as very level-headed and intuitive individual. He had to be, if he wanted to successfully lead a team like the Guardians without blowing half the galaxy up. He may not be the smartest being in the galaxy, but he knew stuff, important stuff, that mattered. And, unlike some people, his head was screwed on right, thank you very much. He took pride in the fact that he wasn't a maniac - in fact, compared to the rest of his team, he was the epitome of sanity (though that might be bit of a stretch). But for the most part, he had it together.
Which is why, when he heard the hissing, ominous voice over the intercom before his music cut off entirely to static, he reacted like a normal person. He screamed like a kid and hauled tail out of the cockpit.
Meanwhile, the other residents of the Milano sat quietly, eating their breakfast in peace. Rocket was seated on the floor, absent-mindedly eating a Poptart while he tinkered with his latest weapon of mass destruction. Gamora sat at the table, staring into space as she sipped her tea. Drax sat by Gamora, breakfast forgotten as he frowned, intently reading Understanding Metaphors for Beginners. Groot was in the corner, simply enjoying the presence of his friends and the quiet, peaceful atmosphere.
Until their half-Terran leader decided to interrupt said peace and quiet by running screaming into the room, tripping as he entered the common area and face-planting on the floor.
"What the hell's your problem, Quill?!" Rocket yelled.
"I am Groot?"
"Who cares if he's hurt! He's about to be!"
"Peter!" Gamora said, jumping up from her seat. "Peter, what's wrong?"
"Ugh," Peter moaned as he pushed himself off the floor. His face quickly morphed into panic again.
"In the cockpit," he said, eyes wide. The rest of the Guardians gathered around him, radiating concern.
"What's in the cockpit, Peter?" Gamora asked.
"Yondu and his crew of whackjobs?" Rocket said, cocking his gun.
"Thanos?" Drax asked eagerly.
"I am Groot?" Rocket frowned.
"Who the heck is Howard?"
"No," Peter gasped, still looking terrified. "It was a g- it was a ghost!"
Everyone stared at him.
"You've gotta be kidding me," Rocket said flatly.
"For star's sakes," Gamora groaned, face-palming.
"I am hoping this is another one of your poorly executed puns," Drax muttered.
"You guys, I'm serious!" Peter yelled, his voice an octave higher than normal. "It was a real-as-hell fricking ghost – I swear! On my word as an ex-Ravager!"
"There are so many things wrong with that statement I don't even know where to start," Rocket said.
"Peter," Gamora said in exasperation. "Look, it was probably just a trick of the light, or your overtired brain playing tricks on you."
"No, trust me, there is no way I would dream this up!" Peter said, frustrated. "I was just sitting in the cockpit, listening to music, totally normal, when this like, freaky creepy voice started whispering – and then everything just cut to static!"
"Peter…" Gamora sighed.
"Sounds more like a speaker malfunction to me," Rocket snorted. "Than a ghost."
"No way," Peter said defensively. "I just checked those speakers last week. Those things aren't the kind that cut to static like that. And that doesn't explain the voice!"
"This voice," Drax said. "What was it saying?"
"I don't – well, I don't really know," Peter said, shifting. "It just sounded like - like really creepy moaning and stuff."
" 'And stuff' " Gamora echoed flatly.
"Maybe it was the galaxy moaning at you as a whole," Rocket said.
"Peter, do you require rest?" Drax said, voice concerned.
"Guys, come on!" Peter said, looking at them in desperation. "I'm not lying, and I'm not crazy! Or overtired!"
"But, just in case, I think you should take a bit of rest," Gamora cut over him, grabbing his arm as she pulled him towards his bunk.
"No – no, Gamora, you don't understand! There's a ghost – ow!" Peter cried as Gamora dragged him out of the room, whacking his head on the door as they left.
"I am Groot," Groot said, concerned.
"There's no such thing as ghosts, ya big baby," Rocket said. "Quill's just got a few screws loose."
"I was not aware Peter had any screws to be loosened," Drax said with a frown.
"Just keep readin' your book," Rocket sighed.
After nearly a year living with his Terran friend, Drax had learned to take most of Peter's remarks with a grain of salt (grain of salt - see? He can use metaphors). Given the frankly unnecessary amount of metaphors the man used, such discernment was necessary. He didn't mind, really – apart from the uselessness of such phrases, his friends seemed to find plenty of amusement in them, and, now that he had gained some understanding of their odd use of words, he found himself able to smile at their remarks as well. All in all, he had come to expect nearly everything from their Terran leader, wild and unpredictable that he was.
He was not entirely sure what to make of his friend's terror over this supposed ghost, however.
There were legends on his planet about such things as ghosts, of course. The point, however was that they were legends – haunting stories told to frighten and inspire fear and adrenaline. Often, sects of people would take this story so to heart that they would develop supposed 'remedies' to defeat such ghosts – the 'superstitious wimps' Rocket spoke of. But there was little truth to be found, even in the most enthusiastic of believers.
So Drax found the matter rather unremarkable, all in all. His friend had simply stayed awake far past the realm of intelligence, a common occurrence with Peter. Gamora would make sure he slept (hopefully not by knocking him into unconsciousness, but that was wishful thinking) and everyone on the ship would be back to their normal business, the supposed ghost forgotten save for Rocket's teasing jibes. They could have their peace once again.
Except Drax was having trouble reclaiming said peace, at the moment. He frowned.
"Rocket," he addressed the raccoon where he sat, tinkering over some new weapon. "Did you move my knife?"
"What?" Rocket asked, confused. "What the heck would I do with a knife?" He shook his head. "Gimme a gun any day."
"There is nothing wrong with wielding a knife," Drax said haughtily. "And that is not the point. My knife is missing."
"Well that's not my problem, is it?"Rocket said. "Go look for it. Quill probably impaled himself on it on the way out or somethin'."
"I would hope not," Drax muttered as he scanned the living area. No sign of his knife. This was most troubling.
He continued through the ship, coming to a halt at Peter's room. Peter lay on the bed, curled up on the blankets and listening to his walkman, eyes flicking around the room warily. Gamora sat on the corner of the bed, leaning against the wall as she read.
"Gamora?" The former assassin turned to him, raising an eyebrow.
"Would you happen to have seen my knife?"
"Since you had it at breakfast? No," she replied.
"Ah," Drax said. He hesitated. "Peter would not have happened to accidently impaled himself on it, would he?" Gamora frowned.
"Let me check," she said, bending over Peter.
"Are you guys serious?" he snapped, having taken off his headphones to hear the last bit of the conversation. "I did not accidently stab myself – Gamora, how could you even treat that like a possibility?!"
"If anyone could do it, it would be you," she said, a small smirk at the corners of her mouth. Drax shook his head as Peter protested indignantly, leaving them to their arguing. His knife was obviously not there.
Which posed a problem for Drax; if neither Rocket, Peter, nor Gamora had taken it, who had? Groot, of course, was already out of the question – his friend possessed an extreme aversion to anything sharp-bladed.
Perhaps Peter's ghost had-
Drax immediately banished the thought, laughing at himself. There were no such things as ghosts, much less ghosts that stole his knives. Peter's meltdown simply had them all on edge. His knife was sure to be in a completely explainable location-
Drax froze. He had just walked into the kitchenette and there it was – his knife.
Stabbed into the floor and dripping with red.
All thought and logic left Drax's mind. There was only once explanation for this.
"FRIENDS!" he bellowed, running out of the kitchenette as fast as he could. "QUILL WAS RIGHT!"
"What the flarkin' hell!" Rocket burst out, clearly irritated at the second disturbance of his peace. "Drax, what the he- ack!"
The raccoon let out a squeaking noise as Drax yanked him up, running towards Peter's room.
"Quill was not insane!" he yelled, panic in his voice. "There is a ghost! We must prepare!"
Gamora stepped outside the door, barely missing colliding with Drax.
"Drax, what possessed you-"
"I KNEW IT!" Peter yelled, popping up from behind Gamora's shoulder. "I told you! I told you it was a ghost! And I was right! Ha!" His look of triumph quickly faded to one of dread. "And there's still a ghost. Oh no. Oh, no no no-"
"Would you all calm down!" Gamora yelled, thoroughly fed up with her teammates. "There are no such things, Peter! Drax, what's gotten into you?"
"Seriously!" Rocket growled, squirming out of Drax's grasp. "What'd you all drink this morning? Hallucinogens?"
"There is most certainly a ghost on this ship," Drax said, glaring at them both. "It stole my knife and used it to stab someone."
Gamora, Rocket, and Groot stared at him in disbelief. Peter whimpered.
"You've gotta be kiddin' me," Rocket monotoned.
"I am positive!" Drax exclaimed. "Come look in the kitchen!"
Gamora rolled her eyes, exhaling heavily.
"Alright, Drax," she sighed. "Let's see."
Drax led them all to the kitchenette, Peter half-hiding behind Gamora as they stepped into the room.
"There, you see – what?" Drax frowned as the rest of the team stared at the knife-less room, unimpressed.
"I am Groot?"
"Wow," Rocket said. "We've lost 'em both to insanity."
"I swear, it was right there!" Drax protested, looking around the room wildly, his knife nowhere in sight.
"Drax…" Gamora sighed.
"I would not lie about this, it was right there – see!" said triumphantly, pointing to the small pool of red on the floor. "There is the blood!"
"Is it blood?" Gamora asked with a frown as Rocket bent over the liquid. He sniffed, frowning.
"Nope. That's that sugary stuff Quill drinks – what's it called?"
"Kool-aid," Peter replied, his voice muffled from where he was hiding behind Gamora's back. Rocket and Gamora stared at Drax, unimpressed.
"That – that still does not explain the disappearance of my knife!" Drax protested.
"Alright. You and Peter are both getting some rest." Gamora muttered, grabbing the two by the arm and (once again) heading towards Peter's room.
"Gamora!" Drax said, outraged. "How dare you suggest I am overtired! I am completely sane, we are being plagued by a ghostly spirit – ow!"
"Another one bites the dust," Rocket muttered. Groot whined. Rocket rolled his eyes, turning to him.
"It's fine, ya big baby. Quill and Mr. maniac over there are just seein' things."
Groot was, by nature, a very unshakeable individual. He carried a deep dislike of cruelty towards harmless creatures, and an even deeper rage at those who would hurt his friends, but for the most part, very little bothered him. Yelled at by people? He lives with Rocket. Please. Arms hacked off by an assassin? A shame, but what can you do. Breaking out of prison with heavy fire from all sides? All in a day's work. Crashing into Xandar and splintering into hundreds of pieces?
…okay, that one may have rattled him a bit, but it wasn't that big a deal. He grew back.
The point was, Groot wasn't bothered by much. So his teammates' hysteria over this supposed ghost had him unconcerned. What he was concerned with, however, was the general well-being of his teammates.
That, and Rocket's patience. (Or lack thereof).
"Frickin' psychos, Groot, I swear," the raccoon muttered, ripping a piece off the Milano with excessive force. "Ghosts- ha! This from the people who barely broke a sweat throwing themselves into a suicide mission. Yeesh."
"I am Groot."
"What do you mean, this is different? That's not a defense! I'd take an imaginary ghost over that psycho Kree-fanatic any day!"
"I am Groot."
"Trust me, Groot. It's imaginary." Rocket rolled his eyes. "Quill and Drax have just lost it."
"I am Groot?"
"They're not really insane, Groot," Rocket sighed, placating. "They just need some sleep. A lot of it." Groot shrugged, abandoning the argument as Rocket continued his tinkering.
"Hey, you wanna grab me another one a' those anti-grav things Peter's got lying around?" Rocket asked after a minute.
"I am Groot?" Groot narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"I'm only gonna take it apart to make something else," Rocket said. "Not a bomb, I swear!" he added hastily. "Just a little something that oughtta come in handy next fight."
Groot shrugged, giving a nod as he left the room. Peter probably wouldn't be pleased, but historically, most of Rocket's inventions had the Terran far too interested and excited to actually get mad about the destruction of his belongings. Striding over to the Milano's makeshift, haphazardly organized weapons room, Groot rummaged through Peter's bag, items spilling out from the knapsack where it carelessly flung on the floor.
Extra blaster cartridges, flash bombs, batteries for the Walkman, those glowy balls Peter loves, and – there we go. Rocket's desired "anti-grav things". Grabbing several of the small objects, Groot stood, making to leave the room. He was just stepping around one of Rocket's bombs when a sound stopped him.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Groot frowned. He glanced around the room, searching for the source of the odd sound. There was no one in the room.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Groot scanned the room again, feeling slightly nervous. The sound wasn't threatening, necessarily, but it was a sound with no source, which was never a good thing. Frowning, Groot turned again-
Only to stop dead as an unearthly moaning rang through the room.
Rocket's assurances or no, Groot wasted no time whatsoever booking it out of the room as fast as he could.
"I am Groot!"
Rocket jumped a good foot in the air as Groot barreled into the room, stopping just inches from trampling Rocket.
"What the hell?!"
Groot stared at him, eyes wide and shaking slightly.
"What's wrong?" Rocket asked, concerned obvious. "Are you okay? You aren't hurt, are – oh." Rocket stared at him again. "Oh. Oh no. Not you too, Groot!"
"I am Groot," he said, voice growing louder in agitation. "I am Groot!"
"Alright, alright!" Rocket said, taking a step back from the angry Flora Colossus. "I'm not writing you off as crazy, yeesh!"
"I am Groot."
"No – I'm sure there's a logical explanation for what you heard," Rocket said, disconcerted. "Let's just – here, I'll come and check it out for you."
"I am Groot!"
"I'm not gonna tell Gamora you're crazy – stop! No! Lemme go! Groot!"
Rocket was officially one hundred percent done with his idiot friends that called themselves 'Guardians of the Galaxy'. Guardians, pfft. A bunch of superstitious crybabies would fit them better at this point.
Seriously, though. Peter, he could understand - it was only too easy to believe that the half-Terran had taken to jumping at shadows. But Drax? And now Groot? Okay – to be fair, Groot hadn't actually claimed it was a ghost he'd heard yet, but it was only a matter of time before he gave in to the hysteria spreading quickly through the ship.
At least he had Gamora, though there was no telling how long she'd last.
Sighing, Rocket followed Groot into the makeshift weapons room, bracing himself for another barrage of half-panicked, half-surprised "I am Groot's" when nothing was there. He strode into the room after Groot, looking around.
"Well, Groot, I'm not seein' anything."
"I am Groot!"
"Yeah, yeah, fine, okay, you didn't see anything, you heard somethin' – but there's gotta be a source of that noise somewhere."
"I am Groot."
"No, Groot, that can't be the answer, because ghosts don't frickin' exist." Rocket rolled his eyes. He was running out of exasperated sighs to give today. "Besides, I'm pretty sure we'd've seen this ghost by now if it's so dead-set on haunting us."
Groot whined as Rocket continued to inspect the room. Other than the disorganized mess of weaponry that made Gamora cringe, there was nothing to be seen. And, more importantly, nothing to be heard but the ever-present hum of the Milano's engines.
"I dunno what to tell you, Groot," Rocket said. "There's nothin' here, and I sure as heck don't see anything."
"I am Groot!" came the protest.
"I'm not sayin' you didn't hear anything!" Rocket said hastily. "Just that it was probably the… wind… or something." He winced. Okay, that one was weak. Groot seemed to agree, glaring at him.
"Okay, so maybe it wasn't just the wind, then it was just the engine runnin' funny or something," Rocket said. "Or Quill's tape needs to be rewound again. Whatever it was, it definitely, a hundred percent was not a ghost."
He stared at Groot firmly as the Flora Colossus seemed, finally, placated.
"Now," Rocket sighed. "Let's get back to-"
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Rocket froze. Groot whimpered.
"What the hell was tha-"
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
"I am Groot!"
"Calm down, ya big baby!" Rocket yelled, trying to stifle his own growing concern. His eyes flicked around the room wildly, searching for the noise. There was no sign of anything.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Rocket took a step back. It sounded like someone was dragging screeching nails harshly over metal.
Someone… or something.
"No way," Rocket muttered, glaring at the room in determination. "There's no such thing as ghosts. There's just some damn pest crawlin' around in the ship or somethin'. That or Quill forgot to fix the cooling system."
All logical explanations. All denying the evidence of the ghost, because there was no ghost, now if Groot would just stop looking at him like that-
The lights in the ship cut off. Groot gave a shriek of fear as Rocket leapt back, heart hammering at the abrupt change in lighting.
"What the actual fu-"
Any expletives Rocket was going to say died a strangled death in his throat as an awful, unearthly moaning rang through the ship.
Well screw logic, Rocket thought.
"Run, Groot, run!"
Gamora sighed, massaging her head. She loved her makeshift family, she really and truly did. But there was simply no denying that they were, on a whole, insane. Today that insanity was simply making more of an appearance than usual. Taking a moment to check in her other teammates one last time, she left for the cockpit, shooting a warning glance at Peter as she left. He winked cheekily at her, face innocent as she left. She shook her head. Even when in mortal terror from an imagined ghost, Peter still found time to flirt with her. What a moron.
Her lovable moron, but a moron nonetheless.
Climbing onto the flight deck, she took a seat in the pilot's chair. The autopilot was guiding them through the vast emptiness of space, taking them past swirling nebulas and far-off planets. Leaning back, Gamora sighed in contentment. Say what you want about the cleanliness of the Milano, the flight deck of the ship was the most comforting place in the world.
She closed her eyes, reveling in the comfort of the chair, the smell of the worn leather, the quiet peacefulness of the ship-
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Gamora frowned. Cracking an eye open, she glanced at the loudspeakers. That hadn't sounded like the normal bursts of static that came through the intercom that occasionally startled everyone. It sounded like… metallic scraping?
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Rising from the seat, Gamora glanced around the flight deck. There was no one there to mess with the intercom controls, and it didn't look damaged. Her forehead creased. What was going on here-
Poof.
Gamora gave a startled gasp as the lights abruptly cut off, plunging her into semi-darkness. Flying over to the control panel, she quickly scanned the readings. Life support was still on, temperature control seemed to be fine, and all the engine readings were good, thank the stars. She powered down the light control, then restarted it.
No light.
Growing irritated, Gamora powered the light control down again, the turned it on, then turned it down, then turned it on, then turned it down, then turned it on. Still no result.
Gamora was two seconds away from smashing the panel to bits when a low, haunting moan echoed through the flight deck. She froze, blood turning to ice in her veins. The moaning cut off as quickly as it had started, but the echo of the awful sound still hung in the air. Gamora felt herself shaking slightly as she backed up against the wall.
Several shrieks sounded from below, causing her to jump. Immediately, her thoughts of panic turned to ones of concern for her friends. Gritting her teeth, she reached over to where Peter kept several of his Terran items, shoved haphazardly into a corner. Pulling out the stick he called a "baseball bat", she turned to the ladder. Whatever the source of that moan was, no one hurt her friends. No one.
She slid down the ladder, moving quietly forward in the ship. The hallways were entirely dark, the only sounds the creaking of the ship and her own breathing. There were no signs of her friends.
Gamora swallowed, tightening her grip on the bat as she crept silently down the corridor, jumping at the slightest noise.
"Okay, okay," she gasped, exhaling as another dark figure proved to merely be her own shadow.
"I am a warrior," she whispered to herself. "I am an assassin. I am a badass. I am not afraid of some pesky figment of Peter's imagination."
She continued to move down the hall in silence, glancing around the corner.
"I am not afraid of some made-up ghos-"
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
"GAH HELP!" she screamed, running as fast as she could from the sound. Skidding around the corner, her heart stopped as she realized that she'd ran directly into a dead end.
"No," she gasped. "No!"
The sound of running footfalls echoed through the air, drawing nearer as Gamora clenched the bat in fear.
"I am a warrior," she whispered again, her voice rising. "I am a warrior and I will not go out cowering in fear!"
She yelled the last part as a desperate battle cry, running high on adrenaline as she charged forward to meet the footsteps.
"Go crawl back to hell where you belong, foul ghost!" Gamora cried, swinging the bat. Only instead of hitting the ghostly flesh she was expecting, the bat collided with a very solid thwack into something soft and decidedly un-ghostly.
"Gah!" Peter cried, stumbling back as he clutched his head. "Gamora, why?!" He whimpered.
"Oh sh – Peter I'm so sorry!" she cried, dropping the bat and running to his side. "I thought you were a – ghost!" she shrieked again, grabbing the bat and charging towards the dark figure.
"No, no, it's us, it's us!" Rocket yelped from Groot's shoulder as the pair ducked a swing.
"Chill out, geez!" Rocket exclaimed as Gamora lowered the bat. "We just came to see what you were cryin' about-"
"I will save you from this ghost, friend Gamora!"
"What the hell!" Rocket shrieked as he ducked Drax's heavy swing just in the nick of time. Peter, on the other hand, wasn't as fortunate.
"Agh!" Peter gave a pathetic cry as he was thrown smack into Gamora, knocking them both over.
"Oof!"
"Drax what the fu-"
"Get off me!"
"Where is the ghost?"
"Get your foot out of my face!"
"I'm trying – wait, there it is!"
"Die, you demon!"
"No, stop – that's me!"
"I am Groot!"
"Where'd it go?"
"We're dead, we're dead-"
"Shut up!"
"What the heck is going on?!"
"Run! Run for your lives!"
"I AM GROOT!"
"Okay," Peter whispered to the other Guardians as they sat huddled in a supply closet. "We need a plan."
"You mean you don't have one?" Gamora whispered back, sounding disappointed.
"Wha – no!" Peter said. "We just got in here like three seconds ago!"
"Some leader you are," Rocket muttered.
"Not even twelve percent of a plan?" Drax said sadly.
"Guys, what the heck!" Peter hissed. "I need some time to think of a plan!"
"You didn't need time the other day when we ran that mission on Korveth," Gamora muttered.
"Yeah, well that was a special occasion," Peter said, flushing.
"And we all know how well that one ended," Rocket snorted.
"Were you eaten by a horde of neon cannibals? I don't think so," Peter whispered angrily. "So shut up."
"I am Groot!"
"Groot is right," Gamora cut in, her voice low but firm. "We need to focus."
"Okay, okay," Peter said. "How to get rid of a ghost. Ummm… we can try salt?"
"Salt?" Rocket scoffed. "What the heck is salt supposed to do?"
"I don't know!" Peter said defensively. "It's a Terran thing! It's supposed to work on demons and ghost and stuff – at least in stories. What do you guys do for ghosts?"
"Nothing, because I'm not some frickin' superstitious wimp," Rocket muttered.
"Rocket, you are literally hiding in a supply closet from a ghost."
"So what?" the raccoon hissed angrily. "Still ain't a wimp! And I say we just blast its brains out!"
"It's a ghost, you can't shoot it," Peter stated as if it was obvious.
"Wanna bet, Star-princess?"
"How about I shove your gun down your throat, you little-"
"Shut up, the both of you," Gamora hissed. She sighed wearily. "Drax, do your people have any remedies for such… ghostly apparitions?"
"We burn it. With fire." Drax said.
Everyone stared at him.
"Lots of fire."
"Maybe that's not the best plan, Drax-"
"Nah, hear him out!" Rocket said, a manic grin on his face. "I think we should give this one a shot!"
"It's quite simple," Drax said. "You simply incinerate every room you believe the ghost to have been in."
"Right. Not on my ship, buddy," Peter said, his love for his ship outweighing any possible ghost remedies. "Let's just stick to – Rocket put that down!"
"SHHH!" everyone chorused as Gamora clamped a hand over Peter's mouth, Rocket dropping the flame-thrower with a sheepish look.
"You will give our location away to the ghost!"
"I'm fowwy, I'm fowwy!" Peter cried (mutedly) from behind Gamora's hand. A look of revulsion crossed her face as she yanked her hand away.
"You got your spit on me!" she said, glaring.
"Well I wouldn't have if you hadn't attacked my mouth-"
"Ew, keep the saliva-swapping to yourselves, sickos."
"Rocket I swear I will end you-"
"I am Groot!" the Flora Colossus hissed loudly, glaring at them all. The silence was instantaneous.
"Sorry, Groot," Rocket muttered. "You're right. We need to take down this ghost before we all slaughter each other."
Judging by Groot's expression, that wasn't exactly what he'd meant, but the rest of the team took it as was.
"Alright," Peter whispered. "Here's the plan."
There was nothing but dead silence on the Milano(a historically notable event. In the darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of the life-support systems and the light cast from the stars outside, no movement could be seen. Nothing but utter silence and stillness reigned over the ship-
Thunk.
-until that happened.
"Ow!" Rocket hissed, rubbing his foot from where he'd ran into the corner of the table.
"Shhhh!" Peter whispered loudly from besides him. "You'll give away our position!"
"Whatever, Star-dork!" Rocket hissed back. "It'll go for Drax and Gamora's distraction first!"
"A distraction that hasn't started yet," Peter hissed. "So lip it, Ranger Rick."
"How about I lip you, humie jackass."
"Do you even realize how completely wrong that sounds?"
"Nope. Don't think about it long enough, that's the key," Rocket muttered. "Now where's that distraction-"
"Oh no!" came the incredibly false and totally unbelievably weak-sounding cry in Gamora's voice. "The lights are out and a ghost is chasing us! We're doomed!"
Rocket snorted as Peter tried to muffle his laughter with his sleeve.
"That is the fakest crap I've ever heard," Rocket said.
"Shhhh!" Peter whispered between giggles.
"Do not despair, my friend!" Drax's voice, purposefully loud, came booming through the ship. "We can take whatever this pathetic ghost throws at us!"
Conversation along that vein continued as Peter and Rocket struggled not to laugh from their hiding place.
"Is there any chance of this actually working?" Rocket asked between bursts of laughter.
"It –hehe - it better," Peter snickered. "There's no way any ghost could miss this."
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
As if on cue, the eerie scratching started once again, sounding from above their heads.
"Okay," Peter whispered, fingering his gun. "That's definitely in the vents." He glanced at Rocket. "You ready?"
"Duh," Rocket said with an eye roll, trying very hard not to think about what he was about to chase. "Just make sure you are."
"Will do," Peter said with a nervous grin, activating his mask just as Gamora and Drax's voices rose in panic, obviously having heard the scratching as well.
"Groot, now!" Peter hissed as the scratching sounded from just above them. Thick branches wrapped themselves firmly over the ceiling paneling, yanking a section open. Jumping up onto Peter's neck, Rocket darted into the upper ventilation shaft, narrowing his eyes as he heard the source of the sound quickly moving away.
"No you don't," Rocket hissed, moving hot in pursuit through the darkness of the ventilation shafts.
"Go, go, go!" Peter yelled as he sprinted below him, following the chase by sound. Rocket growled, moving faster as he caught sight of a dark shape running hurriedly away from him. A wicked grin crossed his face as he caught sight of what lay ahead.
"Got you now, ghost fraud," he hissed.
Just in front on the figure the darkness of the vent was ripped away, revealing blinding light and Peter's masked face, gun clutched tightly in his hands as he aimed it at the figure.
"Take this, ghost!" Peter cried, preparing to fire.
"I am Groot!"
Peter gave a yelp of surprise as Groot's arm swept him aside, dropping the gun as he stumbled back.
"Groot!" he cried. "What the heck!"
"Get the damn ghost!" Rocket cried, watching as the dark figure made to dart away.
"I am Groot!"
And with that angry remark, Groot scooped the dark figure up neatly in his arms, cradling it protectively and glaring at Rocket and Peter.
"Did you get it?" Gamora asked breathlessly as she ran in, Drax close behind.
"Yeah, Groot's got it!" Peter said, pushing himself off the ground.
"Good! Now kill it!" Drax said.
"Yeahhhhh, I don't think Groot's too keen on that one," Rocket said, backing away as Groot growled.
"Groot, why are you protecting the ghost?" Gamora asked, betrayed.
"I'm gonna guess because it's not one," Peter said, flicking his mask back. He approached Groot carefully, peering down at the thing cradled in his arms. "Can I see, bud?" he asked Groot.
Groot growled.
"Promise I won't hurt it," Peter said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. After a minute, Groot nodded, exposing the figure in his arms.
Mew.
"What. The. Hell." Rocket said, staring at the small, furry black animal.
"What is that?" Gamora frowned.
"No way," Peter said, looking closer at the creature. "No frickin' way. That's – you've got to be kidding me."
"You know what this demonic creature is?" Drax asked, the others staring at Peter as ran a hand through his hair.
"Well, yeah, but – it shouldn't be here!" Peter exclaimed. "And it definitely shouldn't have – oh stars, that's embarrassing."
"A Terran creature, then?" Gamora asked, growing irritated. "Peter, what is it?"
"A cat, I'm pretty sure," he said faintly.
Everyone stared at him.
"A cat?" Rocket repeated, confused.
"It's like… a pet. That Terrans keep," Peter explained. "It's, uh – it's completely harmless."
"Oh," Gamora said.
"Oh," Drax repeated.
"Oh," Rocket continued.
"I am Groot," Groot said smugly.
There team was silent for a minute, staring at the small, mewing creature.
"So," Rocket said. "Some… Terran pet… stole Drax's knife, disabled the lights, and pretty much terrified some of the most dangerous people in the galaxy to death."
"Yup," Peter said flatly.
"Oh," they repeated.
More silence.
"No one hears about this," Gamora finally said. "Ever."
"Agreed," Peter, Drax, and Rocket chorused.
"How did it even get on here?" Gamora asked after a beat.
"Beats me," Peter said. "Maybe it snuck on at the last stop?"
"I wanna know how the heck some Terran demon-creature got into space in the first place," Rocket said.
"I can make a few guesses," Peter muttered.
"I am Groot?"
"Yeah, uh… what are we supposed to do with it?" Rocket asked.
"Ummm," Peter said, uncertain. "Well, it is pretty cute, for a cat…"
"Peter," Gamora sighed.
"What?!" he said defensively. "I just said it was cute!"
"Can you eat it?" Drax said, frowning at the creature.
Mew.
"No." the others chorused firmly.
"I am Groot!"
"Look, Groot, I know it's cute and all, but we can't keep a… cat… whatever, on the ship! We can barely keep ourselves alive!" Rocket exclaimed.
"Rocket has a point," Gamora said, looking downcast.
"I am Groot!" The Flora Colossus looked close to tears.
"Aw, no, Groot," Rocket said, looking panicked. "Don't do that!"
"It's alright," Drax said, patting Groot on the shoulder. "I am sure our leader will find a suitable home for our new companion." Everyone looked to Peter expectantly.
"Actually," he said, a calculating grin forming on his face. "I do have an idea…"
Aboard the main ship belonging to the Ravagers, Yondu found himself, once again, face-palming as he tried to ignore his crew, debating for the zillionth time whether he should simply shish-kabob them all through with his yaka arrow or not. His musings were interrupted by the slightest mew.
"What in the hell…" he muttered, looking up at his console. His eyes widened at the sight.
There, seated happily with his troll doll in its mouth, was a tiny, furry black creature. Yondu stared at the creature. The creature stared back.
"Well I'll be damned," Yondu finally said, catching sight of the strip of red leather, Ravager insignia on the side, tied around the creature's neck. "You've gotta be from Quill."
The creature cocked its head, staring up at him curiously.
"Yer definitely from Quill," Yondu muttered. "There's no way anyone else'd be that stupid."
The creature mewed in reply.
"Well, I hate to break it to ya, little demon," Yondu drawled. "But I ain't takin' pity on any more pathetic creatures. I got a crew to feed and-"
"Meow."
"Oh, damn it."
"So you're certain the cat will be alright on a Ravager ship?" Gamora asked Peter.
"Oh yeah," Peter said, grinning. "If there's anything I learned from my time with him, it's that he might be an absolute, one hundred percent asshole, but Yondu is a total sucker for cute, pathetic creatures."
"Speaking from experience?" Rocket snickered.
"I was incredibly cute when I was young, duh," Peter huffed.
" 'Was' being the key word here," Rocket said.
"Excuse me, I am plenty cute now-"
"Does your definition of cute include hideous or somethin'?"
"Do you wanna take a one-way trip out of the airlock?"
"If I can bring you with me, let's go, humie-"
"Alright, that is enough!" Gamora said loudly over the bickering. "If Peter believes the cat will be safe with Yondu, then I am sure the cat will be safe."
The others looked a bit more placated at that.
"And Rocket," Gamora said, the raccoon staring up at her. She smirked. "That 'cute'? It's present tense."
"Wha – huh?" Rocket said, looking floored.
"Haha!" Peter said, a smug smile on his face. "Hear that? I am way cute-"
"And you also need to shut up," Gamora said with a sigh, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of the room.
"Ow, ow – c'mon, Gam, twice in one day?!"
"Why do I even try," the others heard Gamora sigh as they left the room. Drax shook his head as Rocket gaped after them.
"I don't understand," he finally said. "At all."
"You likely do not want to," Drax said with a hint of a smile as they followed the others into the common room.
"Whatever," Rocket muttered. "This day is weird enough as it is."
"I am Groot?" Groot asked as they all collapsed into various places in the common area, all exhausted from the day's events.
"Do what you want, Groot, I need a break," Rocket said.
"Seconded," Gamora agreed.
"Hey, we can watch a movie," Peter suggested. "I've got this one from Terra that sounds good."
"What is it called?" Drax asked, looking interested.
"Ah, some dumb earth title," Peter said, corners of his mouth twitching. "It's called Ghostbusters-"
"NO."