Concrete mountains rearing up
Throwing shadows right about five
Sometimes you can smell the green
if your mind is feeling fine
- Lyrics from Lake Shore Drive
Chapter Three: Bandito
24-Earth hours later...
Nova Corps Spacecraft Hangar 27-S, The Milano's recovered hull, Main deck
"No!" Drax's pale blue eyes widen before he folds into a fit of giggles, "I would never joke about such a thing. Quill nearly back-flighted while we were surveying the damage on Xandar, and that is a very bad thing! The result of back-flighting is immediate death. But our Quill is spirited. He rallied and has cheated death yet again!"
"Flat-lined," I correct Drax, curiously watching as he interacts with Mantis via the newly installed com-link.
"Poor, Peter. It is master's fault," Mantis cringes.
"How do you mean?" Gamora approaches the screen wearily. "We incapacitated Ego. Are you suggesting that the seed's detritus affects Peter?
Mantis unconsciously takes a step backward, her fear of Gamora palpable, "Y-yes. The seeds are extensions of Ego. Any matter that was created by Ego, carries Ego's aura."
I feel the weight of Gamora's gaze before she pulls me aside, her voice low but clear, "Peter, if Mantis is correct, we need to get you off of Xandar as soon as possible."
"That's not possible. The Milano won't be fully functional for at least a Xandarian week," I protest lightly, "And what are we to do after she's rebuilt? Thanks to Ego's insatiable appetite, the list of affected planets is staggering. I mean, with all the Kryptonite floating through space, how am I going to continue exploring the Galaxy with you?"
"Kryptonite?" Gamora puzzles.
"Kryptonite? Oh, ummm...it's a great analogy really, it derives from a popular Terran legend. It starts out with an orphaned alien child, a child who when he grows up, becomes the most powerful superhero in the galaxy."
Gamora's eyes widen, her head tilts to the side, "tell me," she demands.
Dude! It is so unbelievably cool that Gamora continues to adore my obscure Terran references. And as our bond grows stronger, I've been trying to figure out why she enjoys them so much. I'm not a bad storyteller per se, but there seems to be much more to it than that. Personally, I think stories bring her back to a happy childhood memory, i.e., to a time in her life before everything was turned upside down. Of course, I could ask Gamora, but I'm hesitant to delve into anything that might provoke a painful memory. So in my head, I imagine a little-version of Gamora, curled up on her parent's lap reading stories with them before bed. Perhaps I'm projecting too much, but it's easy to do that when I see her face light up mid-story. Yep. She looks like a little kid, eager to start the next chapter, ready to fall in love with the protagonist.
Drax thinks that Gamora and I share a Warrior's bond. And although I can't be certain Gamora and I meet all of Drax's criteria, one of the conditions, shared life experiences, seems on point. For one, Gamora and I were roughly the same age when our childhoods were stolen from us: my abduction into Yondu's care, and Gamora's enslavement to Thanos. In addition to her capture, Gamora was brutally subjected to the murder of her parents, and the destruction of her people and culture. Either way, because the traumatic events occurred before either of us were pre-teens, I firmly believe that there are aspects of us that remain very child-like.
To play on my theory, I inject as much life into the story as possible. My hands punctuate actions, simply because Gamora appears to appreciate the added flair, "The orphan is an alien with superhuman powers. His alien life pod crashes on Terra when his home planet is blown to pieces."
"Did someone just say blown to pieces?" Rocket interjects. I feel Rocket brush past my left leg before strategically placing himself between Gamora and myself.
Gamora's expression darkens.
"The goods, green princess?" Rocket winks repeatedly, "I've worked more than three-quarters down the list. Sent you a request at the end of my shift, but no response."
"I read your request," Gamora bristles, "but considering your lack of results, and discretion... your wages should be docked."
"Hold it right there, sister!" Rocket's face is the closest definition to incredulous I've ever seen on a non-humanoid, "It sounds like you're suggesting that I work for free. Where I come from, that's stealing!"
"If you continue to speak of our business agreement in front of a non-business associate," Gamora growls back, "then getting your fair share should be the least of your worries."
"I don't work for free!" Rocket snarls, enunciating each word. "And by now you should know that threats mean absolutely nothing to me. I've spent all day combing the remains of this piece of junk."
"Hey, man!" I barge in, "What did you call my ship? Dude! What's going on between you and Gamora?"
"This is between Rocket and me, Peter. It's unfortunate that you've been subjected to..."
"Ohhhhhh," Rocket sassily interrupts, "the two lovebirds! It's so inspirational and disgusting at the same time. Me? There are many reasons I've not taken on a leadership role. For one, I lack morals! But should I ever have to take the helm, I can identify one major difference between us, Star-Child. I know better than to defecate in my own bed."
"Really?" I laugh, "this coming from a guy who threatened to put a turd in my pillow if I didn't relinquish control of my ship? C'mon Rocket! A close duo isn't what's going to be responsible for breaking apart our team! Universe! If a tight partnership muddies the water, wouldn't you and Groot hold that particular title?"
"I am Groot?"
"Hey! What are you eating! Where did you find those?" Rocket swoops in on Groot. Since the incident on Ego's planet, Yondu's adorable twig has experienced another growth spurt and is nearly the same height as his raccoon compadre. Considering Groot is eating anything he can wrap his branches around, the noticeable increase in his size and mass make perfect sense.
"I am Groot!"
"No, they are not! Where did you find those? Celestials! They are molding!" Rocket leaps forward and starts wrestling what appears to be a handful of candy out of Groot's dexterous limbs shouting, "Disgusting! Disgusting! Put all of them down!"
Something clicks in my brain, as I distinctly recall Groot eating a container of candy while trying to escape the Sovereign, round one. "Hang on, Rocket. Groot? Where did you get those?" Logic dictates that Groot's candy wouldn't have survived the tow from Berhert. Nor the time spent on a planet filled with exotic fauna and flora.
Gamora crouches down, eye-level with Groot, "Hi little one," she smiles, "come here." Gamora leans forward and holds out four small pieces of dried fruit she purchased at a local Xandarian market, "you can have these, and a few more pieces, if you show us where you found the candy."
"Really?" Rocket shakes his head in irritation, "you're bribing a toddler?"
"I am Groot!" Groot's hand stretches to meet Gamora's before pulling her towards an area below the flight deck. Rocket and I trail behind, leaving Drax to finalize his time with Mantis. Upon arriving at the lower deck, Groot directs his captive audience to the left of the stairwell, towards the trash compactor.
"Why you little hoarder," Rocket mutters, hands resting on hips, "I can't believe it. Clever? Yes. But highly unsanitary."
"I am Groot."
"What?" I look to Rocket for clarification.
"I thought he might be stashing things behind the compactor. On several occasions, I caught him snooping back there." Rocket smacks his lips in disdain.
"I am Groot!"
"You've never known a day of hunger in your life." Rocket shakes his head, "I've always given you everything you wanted."
I raise an eyebrow and turn to Gamora, "Drax inferred as much when we left Berhert, that's why he insisted on carrying all his goods. He said he didn't want Groot going through his stuff."
"Go on now!" Rocket directs, although he's addressing Groot, Rocket is clearly glaring at Gamora, "This is our family. We don't take from family."
Groot nods and leads Gamora to the compactor. With Groot's permission, Gamora pulls the unit forward. She then lifts the container out of the tracks and sets it aside. I toss Gamora a flashlight, and in under five Earth seconds, Gamora gasps, "Peter!"
In the small space between the wall of the outer panel and the metal frame that holds the compactor in place, Groot has stashed a myriad of treasures - from food to bedding. Gamora is holding a small container, the size of a cardboard shoebox.
"Can you show Peter?" Gamora gently nudges Groot.
"I am Groot," The small tree agrees.
Groot's finger-like projections grow towards me, a container in hand. When I look inside, my heart swells. Each item is as sacred as the next: a light blue ribbon, a square of folded wrapping paper, a white cardboard box selected by my mom to house the 'Awesome Mix Vol. 2 Mix Tape,' a folded piece of paper that contains mom's letter, and finally, mom's first mixtape, Awesome Mix Tape Vol. 1.
"Thank you, Groot," I manage to choke out. What can I say? I'm Earth-seconds from being overcome by emotions. Dude! I honestly never thought I'd recover any of my mom's things. When Ego crushed my walkman, destroying my mother's audio tape in the process, I - I - I've still no fucking words. I've never been violated in such manner. And I was so vulnerable, in such physical pain, and Ego was supposed to be my father. Dammit, even now I am having a hard time thinking about it.
Gamora lifts Groot and holds him close; her face awash in joy, "you've brought Peter happiness!"
Groot smiles broadly, basking in her gentle affections.
Rocket quietly pulls me aside, "Quill. I'm glad you got your goods back."
"Thanks. This uh..., this really means the world to me."
"So you're back on track?"
"Back on track?"
"You know, now that you've got all your gadgets and mementos back: from the antiquated Terran music to the Milano ... is it enough to ensure you're back in the game?"
"Perhaps you're being too subtle." I offer, somewhat irritated by this line of questioning, "What game are you referring to?"
"Look, Quill, I know I'm an a-hole, so I'll cut to the chase. Are you mentally and physically up to leading the Guardians?"
"Hang on," I'm stunned, "Are you suggesting that I'm not mentally and physically capable. Ah, yes…..now that I've no more Celestial powers, my value to this team just plummeted. Universe, Rocket! Do you realize that I never even knew I had abilities until I ran into my psychotic old man."
"Just because you didn't know about them, doesn't mean they didn't enhance your abilities. Me? I need to know you are fit in both departments."
"So how about this scenario? If your modifications were disabled, would that justify cutting you from the Guardians?"
"Why not?" Rocket shrugs his shoulders, "I mean, why'd you tow around some stupid raccoon?"
"Because I care, dammit! And I hope you understand that you are so much more than the sum of your modifications," I fume, "Celestials, Rocket! I'm not some invalid!"
"Hmm, I don't know," Rocket strokes the white fur under his jawline, "didn't Drax just drag your unconscious ass to a medical facility and back for passing out because it was hot outside?"
What prevents me from engaging in a fistfight with Rocket is Gamora's dark expression. Her outrage is punctuated by her body language – hands on hips, muscles tense as a spring-board, eyes shooting daggers, her dark green lips pursed into a straight thin line. She's remained quiet on the sidelines purely out of professional courtesy. Her actions are correct. This is my battle, but even so, I don't have it in me to fight.
An awkward silence unnerves all. Gamora's face twitches as she uses every ounce of self-control to refrain from interfering.
"That's what I thought," Rocket concludes, crossing both of his arms, "there's no fight in you, Quill. You've changed on many levels. But you," Rocket nods his head in Gamora's direction, "haven't changed. Therefore, you've both confirmed my suspicions in regard to how this team is going to be playing their cards."
Silver flashes in front of my eyes as Gamora's sword cuts through the air, abruptly stopping centimeters from Rocket's neckline.
Rocket doesn't flinch, but his tail suddenly appears twice as thick, "Exactly," he announces plainly, "Bodyguard thug, and her frail Terran."
"You'd best be out of my sight before I change my mind," Gamora seethes.
Without warning, Drax slides down the stairwell railings, unknowingly entering a toxic battleground, "Hey, guys. What did I miss?"
Rocket chuckles maniacally; a hearty fake belly laugh fracturing the raw silence, "Nothing you haven't seen before. Do you think this Star-munch can still lead? Be honest, Drax. Coz' I'm getting sick and tired of being the only realist in this family. Wake up, folks! We just buried a Guardian!"
Gamora's eyes probe mine. It's hard to say whether she's transmitting comfort, or looking for it in return. But it's too late for solace. The damage inflicted by Rocket's words may be permanent.
Chapter Four: Refrain
