My Own Kind of Freedom
"Well, the Freedom Fighters of the Galaxy are always on the lookout for new recruits. And, well, you being a racoon and all-"
"Okay, what the heck is a racoon?"
Tailon's first response was to say "a racoon is a type of Mobian, usually comfortable in deciduous forest," or "well, you're a racoon, how could you not know what you are?" But he kept his mouth shut. Because not only was this racoon carrying the most disproportionately-sized gun he'd ever seen, he was also in the company of a walking tree that had already left several bar patrons unconscious. Why they were trying to steal from a walking tree he didn't know (seriously, if he had a wallet, where the hell was he keeping it?), but then again, he'd never counted people who frequented grog holes as the most intelligent people in the galaxy.
"Never mind," Tailon said. "Forget I said anything."
And Tailon liked to consider himself to be intelligent.
"Huh," the racoon who claimed not to be a racoon said. "Funny."
"What is?"
"The never mind thing after calling me a raccoon. That's exactly what Quill said before I threatened to shoot out his knee-caps."
"Oh really," Tailon said, watching the plant consume his third barrel of what he assumed was water (could plants drink alcohol? He had no idea). "Can't imagine why."
"Yeah," the racoon said, lying back in his chair. "So, anyway, these FFGs-"
"Freedom Fighters of the Galaxy."
"Yeah kid, that's great, I'm still calling you FFGs," the racoon repeated. "And as far as I'm concerned, you're still the FNGs in this part of space as well."
Tailon scowled.
"That stands for fu-"
"I know what FNG stands for!" he snapped. He rubbed his eyes – this wasn't going well at all. This was meant to be a nice, friendly conversation with one of the heroes of Xandar. To extend the courtesy of joining their little intergalactic group, now that Mobius was beyond saving. Not something that made him feel more and more like a child with each passing moment.
"So, what are you guys up to?" the raccoon said.
"Well, let's see…we were going after Robolactus and Silver Snively…but then the Zone Cops hauled them away…" Tailon sighed. This had sounded so much better in his head.
"Y'know, it's funny," the racoon said. "I could swear I heard of those guys…"
"Oh really," Tailon murmured.
"Yeah," he said. "Only the big guy was called Galactacus. Some weird guy in a giant purple spacesuit-"
"That's Robolactus-"
"Who appeared in a planet-consuming cloud," the racoon continued. "And he was also attended by a silver surfer. No idea how you can surf through space-"
"Oh, that's easy when you factor in solar winds, dark energy-"
"Like I said, no idea," the racoon said, his voice more forceful than Tailon thought necessary. "But hey, bad guys…zone cops…yay…" He raised his glass of green liquid in mock toast.
Tailon glanced at the plant. Another barrel of clear liquid was being consumed.
"So, anything else?" the racoon asked. "I mean, you're an FNG, but-"
"You know, I'm sure I had a speech ready about truth, and justice, and protecting the galaxy, but now, I just don't care."
The racoon smiled. "Good for you kid. Not caring is the first step on the road to being a badass."
"That sounds a bit counterproductive."
"Like I said, FNG," the racoon said. He got to his feet. "Now if you excuse me, I need to find some balls to break."
Tailon decided not to ask how, or why.
He also decided that he'd not mention any of this to the FFG.
And that he needed to get that acronym out of his head.
A/N
When I read The Freedom Fighters of the Galaxy duology way back in the day, the Fantastic Four parodies were obvious (Silver Snively, Robolactus...gee, subtle). It was only recently however when I got the idea that "hey, maybe the FFG is a parody of some other comic material. Turns out that each one of them has a Guardian counterpart. So, in the middle of such profound insight, drabbled this as a response. Small, but I guess it's more than anything we'll ever get (e.g. nothing) due to the Penders/Sega/editorial guideline stuff the comics are dealing with.
Yay. :(