DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING

Well…this is awkward.

It's been one hell of a long time, I know. And I DID NOT forget about this story. I've quite literally been busy ALL THE TIME. Ever since the summer, I've found myself lucky to be able to watch even a half hour of TV a week. A WEEK.

I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING THOUGH. I'm a piece of $%# .

And unfortunately, I predict that the next update will be just as random. If I had the time, I would update more often. For now, consider this a gift for the holidays.

But I'm so glad so many of you stuck with this story, though. It means a lot.

Here's a new chapter! Please enjoy, and I'm sorry for any anguish I have caused.


One poorly performed prison escape and four additions to the Shi'arian most wanted list later, the wall of the ship impound burst open with a mighty crash. The guards were thrown to the ground by the impact, and they sat dazed for a moment. What was going on? Were they being attacked?

They staggered to their feet and scrambled to pick up their weapons, hoping to defend themselves against whatever assailants that had decided to confront them. They were Shi'arians! Members of the bravest race in the universe. Thus, they prepared to fight whoever was about to emerge from the gaping hole in their wall.

But that sentiment did not last. Out of the smoke of the destruction came those infamous Guardians of the Galaxy, weapons in hand (excluding Groot, of course, who had merely extended his branches in a threatening fashion). Each was more than recognizable, given their appearances on the Shi'arian news not so long ago.

Gamora, the most dangerous woman in the Universe.

Drax, the destroyer.

Rocket, the crazy, pyromaniacal raccoon.

Groot, the sentient tree.

And...well, they supposed there was supposed to be one more, but for some reason, he was oddly absent.

Nonetheless, the Guardians were all clearly in a foul mood, their expressions betraying intense frustration and agitation. In particular, Gamora looked downright murderous, especially considering that she and her comrades were covered in something brown and odorous. But the Guards were hardly focused on that. They were more focused on the Guardians' machine guns, which were primed and ready to shoot, with each wielder looking more than ready to take a life.

Thus, with these sights in mind, and the knowledge of the dispatchment of Ronan and hundreds of Badoon, the Guards' resolve simply dissipated. Their weapons dropped from their hands, and those sames hands were soon raised above their heads to signify surrender.

"You brought a ship here," Gamora snaps. "Where is it?"

The guards were silent with fear.

"THE SHIP! WHERE?"

One Guard cleared his throat and spoke, his voice a great deal higher than it should have been. "Um...this is an impound, ma'am. We deal with a lot of ships."

Rocket snorted. "Well, you'd remember this one. It's a ravager cruiser, made all the more ugly by the tons of Terran junk stored inside."

The guards glanced at each other with recognition. "Oh," the one who spoke remarked. "That one."

"Yeah, I know," Rocket moaned, shifting his gun to his other paw. "I'm embarrassed just to be traveling in it. Quill's a weirdo."

Gamora shook her head with absolute exasperation. "Well, that 'weirdo' is our friend, and he has been kidnapped. So if you wouldn't mind staying focused for more than a half-second…"

"Alright, alright. Don't have a coronary. Groot, please relay a message to these nice Guards here."

Groot let out a mighty roar, and before long, the Guards were whimpering on the floor, the location of the ship among those whimpers.

Rocket swiped a key card from one of their pockets, and soon enough, they had found the large garage door that the Milano was hidden behind. No one challenged them along the way. That was either the result of their terrifying reputations, or the horrific smell emanating from them. At this point, they were far beyond caring.

The key card was placed in front of the garage, the door opening with a swift whoosh. The lonely Milano was finally revealed in her full glory, but the Guardians had little time to revel in their accomplishments.

"I call first shower!" Rocket called as he sprinted toward the hatch of the ship, but Gamora grabbed him by the fur to stop him.

"Are you kidding? After that escape attempt? No way."

"I got us out, didn't I? So what if I had to blow up the sewers to do it?" Rocket protested, twisting and turning to escape from Gamora's grasp, and failing to do so.

"Would it have killed you to tell us beforehand?" Gamora yelled, holding Rocket above the ground at arms-length. With this stance, she looked almost like a disapproving mother.

"Indeed," Drax added. "This smell is quite hideous. Though I have smelled worse things. Especially after Peter tried to make the alien-equivalent of something called a 'taco.'"

"Those didn't smell that bad," Gamora pointed out, recalling the event.

"I was not talking about the food product itself. I was talking about the after-effects."

There was a moment of quiet among the group, during which Rocket stopped struggling. It was almost as if they were all recalling an extremely unpleasant memory - a recollection of a month-long stench that permeated their entire base on Knowhere, perhaps.

"Whatever," Rocket finally mumbled, breaking the grim silence. "I was improvising. Drax was the universe's crappiest Shi'arian."

"I am Groot."

"See!" Rocket exclaimed, gesturing to him fervently. "Groot agrees. Plus, he doesn't care about the sewage!"

Gamora sighed. "Groot's a tree. That stuff is like...fertilizer to him."

Almost on cue, Groot proceeded to lick some of the sewage off of his own bark, looking perfectly content as he did so. In response, the group shuddered and yelled exclamations of revulsion. It was only seconds before Rocket was dropped on the ground at Groot's feet, and Gamora was through the hatch and onto the ship.

As soon as they had all boarded, Gamora decided to give a few orders - but not before forbidding her comrades from sitting anywhere. She didn't want this smell to last any longer than it had to, and contaminating the furniture would be the #1 way to preserve the horrific scent.

"Alright. Peter's been taken by Spartoi Imperial Guards, which means that we have to rescue him," Gamora said.

"Hear hear," the Guardians replied, excluding Groot, who added his signature line in response.

"But first - we shower," Gamora conceded, hoping that Peter could last a little longer.

Apparently, she was not the only one with askew priorities, because the rest of the Guardians heartily agreed. (Except Groot again, who looked rather aggrieved at the thought of losing his new food source).

To be continued…(eventually)