Transported to Nova HQ, the five convicts were individually inspected and analyzed as the board chose what to do with them. Eventually Denarian Garthan Saal made an overly-exaggerated decision of sending all five to the well-secured Kyln prison facility.

While Groot and Gamora were transferred separately, due to their physical strengths, Peter, Petra, and Rocket were transferred together.

The three sat silently in one of the transfer units, hand-cuffed in a lone, metal-made room, the guards and pilot outside the steel break-me-if-you-dare door to the right wall.

Petra couldn't help contemplating the fact that things quickly spiraled out of hand the minute they made the decision to leave. But a small reminder of how their lives were before that brought her back to her senses. She sighed tiredly. It wasn't like their current situation was any better. After all, they were headed to PRISON!

She'd never been to one before, so she had no idea what it was like. 'Well, it ain't gonna be pretty!' her mind exclaimed. As if she needed more reasons to fear the destination. 'It'll be okay. It'll be okay,' she tried.

"This is just great!" Peter yelled sarcastically, interrupting her thoughts, "Just fucking fantastic!"

"Peter, keep it down!" Petra warned from beside him on the bench. "The last thing we need right now, is more conflict," she stressed.

"Listen to your sister, Quill," Rocket told tiredly, lying down on the bench opposite them, eyeing the ceiling with little interest. "She's clearly the brains of the organization."

Unknowingly, the raccoon had fed into the male Quill's burning rage. "YOU! You do NOT SPEAK!" Peter yelled furiously. "We wouldn't be IN this mess if it wasn't for YOU!"

Rocket scrunched his eyebrows. 'Seriously?!' he thought. The raccoon sat up straight. "Me?!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry, was I the one who decided to slip off from Yondu and his gang of dimwits?!"

"We'd have done it quite nicely too, had you and that thing kept your noses in your own shit!" Peter argued.

'This is getting out of hand,' Petra thought.

"It was gonna happen with or without my involvement, pretty boy," Rocket told mockingly.

"Enough!" Petra demanded, leaning out of her seat slightly, exchanging glances between both stubborn males. She turned to her twin calmly. "He's right, Peter. This would have happened sooner or later," she explained.

Peter's eyes fell. He knew what the risks were when they made the decision, but he was hoping to evade them, and was furious that he couldn't. It felt too soon to get into trouble, and yet, here they were.

"See?" Rocket smirked.
"But," Petra glared his way, wiping the smirk off his face. "nothing's going to change if we keep at each other's throats. So for the sake of getting out of this alive, you two need to grow up," she stressed.

A heavy moment passed. The two males glared at one another. There was no point in arguing indeed, so, eventually, Peter stretched out his cuffed hand, rolling his eyes in annoyance like a child.

Rocket eyed it in confusion for a second, stubbornly reluctant, then smirked. 'Oh, what the heck,' he wondered, accepting Peter's peace treaty and shaking his largish, disturbingly soft hand.

"This shouldn't be too bad, right? I mean, it's Nova Corp," Petra stated, concern dripping from her every word. If there was one thing Petra was bad at, it was hiding her emotions.

The five convicts walked in line-form towards wherever the guards led them in the doesn't-take-no-shit prison facility. "I guess most in Nova Corp wanna uphold the law, but these ones here? Their corrupt and cruel," Rocket explained truthfully, uncaringly raising the red-head's concerns. Sugarcoating shit just wasn't his style. "But, hey," he chuckled, "I ain't gonna be here long. I've escaped twenty-two prisons. This one's no different."

'That sounds interesting,' Peter thought. As so, the highly intelligent raccoon was analyzing all that surrounded him, slowly deducing exactly what he'd be using to plan the grand break out. "You're lucky the board showed up," Rocket spoke, pointedly at the Quills, "otherwise me and Groot would be collecting that bounty. Right. Now."

Petra turned cautiously to the tree spoken of, marching calmly behind her brother and herself. He smiled softly at her, making her turn forward once more, still crept out by the thought of how cute and innocent-looking said tree was, despite the attempt to sack her. However, it seemed clear that Rocket was the brains, and Groot was the muscle, so he was probably harmless unless told otherwise by the raccoon, because, with those big eyes and that soft smile, she couldn't help comparing him to a kitten.

Petra smiled to herself, it's been a while since she'd thought of such delicacies. If they were to make it out of the hold alive, she was getting a goddamn pet, no Yondu to reject it now. It's weird how free she felt, despite being in prison. She was sure now, leaving the Ravagers was the right decision.

"And you'd be getting drawn and cornered by Yondu and those Ravagers," Rocket continued. Petra rolled her eyes at that.
"Can we not discuss this right now?" she plead tiredly, not wanting another quarrel to arouse as she warily eyed Gamora at the very front, unsure what to expect from her.
"Why?" Rocket inquired from in front of her, grinning as he looked up at her face.

To the others, Rocket was thigh-high, but to her short posture, he went higher than her waist, which was a lot. 'Damn, I'm short!' thought Petra. "Afraid of losin' to me, Red?" he teased. She cocked a (Really?) eyebrow at him, Peter speaking up from behind her.

"We've had a lot of folks try to kill us over the years. We ain't about to be brought down by a tree and a talking raccoon," He told.
"HOLD," the guard behind them commanded. They did as told without complaint as said guard opened up the bared front door.
"What's a raccoon?" Rocket asked in disgust at the word, Petra smiling at the reaction as her brother gave a subtle scoff.
"'What's a raccoon?' It's what you are, stupid," her brother retorted.

Rocket did his best to ignore the comment, too focused on his surroundings to get into argument, but that didn't stop him from talking back. "Ain't no thing like me, 'cept me," he banged at his chest for emphasis.

Gamora looked behind her and at them tiredly. 'For god's sake, just shut up,' she wished. Peter caught her eyes, making her look away before he would comment, but he did anyways. "So this Orb has a real shiny blue suitcase, arc of the covenant, Maltese Falcon sorta vibe. What is it?" he asked, pointing the question to her.
"I am Groot. (She won't answer you.)" Groot said from directly behind him. Of course, the only person that actually understood him, due to the translating implant in his brain, was Rocket.
"So what?" Peter inquired, then turned back to the Zen-Whoberi, who did exactly what Groot told him, or tried telling him, she would.
"I have no words for an honor-less thief," she spat, making Rocket scoff.
"Pretty high and mighty, coming from the lackey of a genocidal maniac," he retorted, making the other three's eyes go wide, but hers went wider with shame, shame that Petra couldn't help picking up on.

But Gamora knew what she was, she knows what she's done, and she knows it'll probably take her a million years to redeem herself, but she has to start somewhere, and that wasn't happening if she didn't find a way out of here. Peter wasn't the only one who found Rocket's (I've escaped twenty-two prisons.) comment interesting.

"Yeah. I know who you are. Anyone who's anyone knows who you are," he shot.
"Yeah, we know who you are!" Peter yelled proudly, his sister eyeing him doubtfully.
"No, we don't," she retorted.
"Yes, we do!" he glared a (Don't make me look bad.) at her.

Peter turned to Groot, of all people. "Who is she?" he asked, a question that was replied to by a sole (I am Groot.) yet again. "Yeah, ya said that," Peter told irritably, his sister nudging an elbow at him.
"Leave him alone," she told tiredly, wishing he'd shut the hell up.

He eyed her perplexedly, the green-skin cutting their petty talk short. "I wasn't retrieving the Orb for Ronan. I was betraying him," she explained, shocking most of them, especially Rocket, who knew much more about her than any of the others did. "I had an agreement to sell it to a third party," she continued, peeking the interest of the Quills, who too had tried, and failed, to sell the supposedly expensive Orb.
"Who?" Petra asked hopefully.

Gamora gave her a glare that made Petra wish she was as short as Rocket so as not to be seen from behind him. 'Break the ice, Petra. Break it,' she thought hastily. "Sorry I asked," she raised her cuffed hands slightly in surrender.
"I am Groot. (Be careful, Red.)" tried Groot, making Rocket scoff, silently agreeing.
"Well, that's just as fascinating as the first eighty-nine times you told me that," Peter sighed suddenly. "What is wrong with Giving-tree here?" he asked irritably.
"Peter. Stop," Petra plead with exhaustion, hoping he would just leave the tree be.
"What?" Peter whined as Rocket gave a smile. 'At least someone's trying to shut this idiot up,' he thought, and so for the Red-head's sake, he decided to explain.
"He don't know talkin' good like me and you, so his vocabulistics are limited to (I) and (Am) and (Groot), exclusively in that order," he told, Petra pitying the poor tree.
"Well, I'll tell you what, that's gonna wear real thin, real fast, if I"- Peter complained, his blabbering cut short when...'Oh My God! Is that MY Walkman?!'

Rocket had deduced that they were headed towards the washrooms as they passed the equipment room. What had attracted Peter's attention, however, was the blue-skinned guard in said room, listening to his music. "Hey!" yelled Peter. "Put that away!" he demanded.

"Peter!" Petra warned, immediately stepping in front of him, having full knowledge of exactly how ludicrous her twin could act for that thing, but she knew why too. "Just walk away," she attempted, but as the guard decided to lock himself in, Peter pushed his sister aside. "Hey!" she complained, him slipping into the room just before the door cut him in half.

"Listen to me, you big blue bastard! Take those headphones off! That's mine! Those belong to me, and that tape and that player IS MINE!" were the last words out of the Quill boy's mouth before the guard stood furiously from his seat and tazed the shit out of him.

Petra sighed tiredly, taking hold of the door bars, relaxing her hammering head on them as she watched her stupid brother get his ass kicked for that godforsaken thing, a fourth time. 'What a day?'