Chapter 21: How Rocket Got the Eyeball
Contraxia was a cold, icy planet. The snow never ceased falling, and winter never ended. It was surprising, therefore, that such a hostile planet was heavily populated by a myriad of races. Contraxia was notorious for its many brothels and bordellos. One of the most infamous brothels, the Iron Lotus, had android prostitutes known as Love Bots that provided entertainment.
The place was a known haunt of the space pirate group known as the Ravagers, which Peter Quill had once belonged to. He was therefore not too excited to visit, knowing that he might run into some familiar but not very friendly faces. The Guardians and Fugitoid climbed the stairway and stepped in the door, and the outside cold air was instantly replaced with the smell of spice, booze, and an underlying odor of unwashed aliens and humans. A large dance floor was in the center of the room, surrounded by several sound stages where scantily clad orange-skinned android females twirled on poles while being hooted and hollered at by the crowd. The music was some kind of electro funk remix, and everybody was moving to the loud heavy bass thumps rattling the speakers.
Surrounding the dance floor were dark alcoves, entryways to VIP suites specifically designed for patron privacy. Here, the high society customers could revel in the debauchery of the underworld with an android prostitute while concealing their identities. Criminals could do any assortment of illegal activities with some privacy, all while having a perfect view of the android dancers on stage.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," muttered the Fugitoid.
"As nightclubs go, this definitely isn't the worst I've visited," Gamora said.
"Are you kiddin'?" Rocket laughed. "The Iron Lotus is almost classy."
"Alright," Fugitoid said. "Spread out and act natural. Star-Lord and I will track down Belebome and see what he has to say. Do your very best not to attract too much attention, will you?"
"Do not worry, professor," Drax said, moving out into the room. "I've mastered the ability of standing so incredibly still that I become invisible to the eye. Watch."
The Guardians watched as Drax moved down to find an unoccupied booth on the main floor, getting in and sitting absolutely still. The android dancing on the stage whipped her glittery blue hair around as she spun around the pole. She smiled and blew Drax a kiss as she bent over on the table towards him.
"Invisible, you say?" Fugitoid asked.
"Yeah . . ." Quill gestured at Drax. "He actually can't do that. Keep an eye on him, will you, Rocket?" He turned, looking for the racoon alien. "Rocket?"
"He went to get a drink," Gamora said, rolling her eyes. "Just get the information and let's get out of here."
Rocket slipped into one of the darkened booths and ordered a drink from the holomenu on the table. As he waited for an android to deliver his drink, he pulled out a spice stick from his pocket and lit up. Just the stuff. The smoke burned his throat, stained his fingers and made his clothes and fur reek, but he was hooked.
He'd found some spice sticks in a crate on Knowhere. He hadn't smoked regularly, but now it helped him cope with the death of Groot. Although, Groot wasn't really dead. Technically. Rocket had retrieved the pre-arranged cutting from Groot's body during their battle with Thanos and planted it. The little stick was slowly beginning to grow into a new Groot, though it would take time. This happened more often than one would think; Rocket guessed he'd been through about five or six Groots at this point.
"Got some good-looking girls in here," said a voice. Rocket turned to see a man sit down opposite him. The man was elderly, dressed in a dark red Ravager uniform, with thinning white-grey hair, a matching moustache and a pair of orange-tinted glasses. The only thing not normal about his appearance was a large patch of skin missing off the right side of his face, revealing some electrocircuitry around a mechno eye socket. The socket held a robotic eye.
"Yeah," Rocket muttered, not really in the mood for much conversation.
"Still, this place is a little boring," the man said, watching the android on stage gyrate and twist her hips. "Betcha we could liven things up. Make things interesting. What do you say?"
"Look, buddy, if you're looking for some action tonight I don't swing that way," Rocket said. He flicked the man a couple of credits. "If you go down to the stage and throw that at one of the dancers, maybe she'll blow ya a kiss."
The man laughed. "Oh, no! I didn't mean—!" He laughed some more. "I meant something else. Maybe a drinking contest?"
"A drinking contest?" Rocket asked.
"Sure," the man said. "You look like a guy who needs to get lost in something. Who's been through a rough time. Drinkin's the way to forget, pal."
Rocket furrowed his eyebrows together. "What are you, a shrink? I ain't interested, pal."
"I'll bet you a hundred units that I can drink more than you," the man challenged.
A hundred units? Rocket eyed the man up and down. Judging by the fellow's build, he was a lightweight. It would only probably take five or six shots and he'd be out cold. A hundred units for chugging down two shots? Hmm.
The wheels in Rocket's head were turning. It was no secret that he was obsessed with prosthetic limbs. Everybody collects something, he was always saying, and I like collecting prosthetics. What's wrong with that?
"Aw, is that all?" Rocket laughed. "I thought ya wanted to make this interesting."
"What did you have in mind?"
Rocket leaned forward across the table. "I'll see your 100 units and I'll raise you . . ." He tapped the side of his head with a finger. "One mechanical eyeball."
The man paused, both his organic and his mechanical eye flicking back and forth and blinking rapidly. "It's a deal," he said at last. Bringing up the holomenu, he ordered the drinks. "But I don't plan on losing, Mr—"
"Call me Rocket," Rocket said. "And I don't plan on losing either." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handful of golden unit coins, throwing them on the table in the middle. "Let's see it."
"No pauses and no stops," the man said, adding to the units pile before he reached up and took off his glasses. He pressed a button on the exposed circuitry of his face, and his mechanical eye popped out of its socket. He laid it down on the top of the pile of glittering chips. "And no vomiting. Last one standing wins."
"You're on, stranger," Rocket said, grinning as the android brought over a tray of shots. Rocket was still grinning as he looked down at the tray to see a collection of shot glasses filled with a glowing blueish-green liquid. Rocket's face fell. "Wait, what are those?" he asked.
"Shots of Plasma Surge," the man said simply. "The strongest alcoholic drink in the galaxy. Isn't this supposed to be interesting?"
The drinks were beginning to attract patrons, as one by one they started trickling over to watch the contest. Rocket gulped. Maybe he was in over his head.
But hey, when had that ever stopped him before?
Fugitoid and Peter Quill headed towards the private rooms in search of Vrax Belebome. "Be prepared for anything," Fugitoid warned Quill. "Belebome is a treacherous lowlife, but he's the only one in the galaxy who could tell us where to find the rest of the batteries."
They found him in the back room, in a corner booth with a tall window. The two were greeted by the unwelcome sight of Bellybomb's large buttcrack as the alien slid his large oversized pants on. An android prostitute sat on the edge of the bed and got up as they came in.
"Belebome," Fugitoid said coldly.
"Hey there, Honeycutt," Bellybomb said, laughing as he got dressed. "Thanks a lot, Toots," he said, slapping the android's rear end. "We'll be done in a minute."
The android prostitute leaned up and kissed Bellybomb on his long neck. "Thanks for an absolutely thrilling night," she said in a feminine robotic voice before strolling out of the room. As she walked past them, she brushed Quill's shoulder seductively.
"You really oughtta get yourself one of these girls, Fugie baby," Bellybomb said. "They real nice."
"Yes, yes, that's all well and good, but we're here on business," Fugitoid interrupted.
"'We'?" Bellybomb's long eyeball stalk leaned forward, squinting suspiciously at Quill. "Who are you supposed to be? Fugie's hired muscle?"
"The name's Star-Lord, lard belly," Quill shot back.
"Ha!" Bellybomb laughed, getting his eyeball out of Quill's face. "You ain't so tough, hotshot. If you was a player I woulda recognized you. But I ain't never heard of nobody named 'Star-Lord' before."
"Time is of the essence, Belebome," Fugitoid said. "Your message said you had information on the location of anulax batteries."
"I do indeed, Honeycutt," said Bellybomb. "But nothing's free around here. A thousand units."
"You gotta be kidding me!" Quill said. "A thousand units? You think we've got that kind of money?"
Bellybomb glared at him. "I'd watch your tone if I was you, Space-Lord."
"It's Star-Lord," Quill snapped.
"Ahem!" Fugitoid waited till there was silence before proceeding. "I haven't that much with me," he told Bellybomb. "But I could pay you two hundred now."
Bellybomb laughed out loud. "You think you can get ole Belebome to spill his secrets for two hundred units?" He laughed some more.
"I mean, it's two hundred credits," Quill said. "Now do we get information or not?"
Bellybomb stroked his moustache. "Well, now, for two hundred, I can't tell you exactly where the batteries are myself," he mused. "But I can point you to someone who knows for absolute certainty where they are. And he won't bother with asking for money, either." He held out his hand. "It's a deal, Fugie."
Fugitoid extended a closed fist and opened it, dropping a handful of unit chips into Bellybomb's hand. He snickered as he put them in his pocket. "Ah, ha ha. Sweet sweet units. Now, let's see what I can do for ya, Fugie. You've had run-ins with that bug boy Dregg before, haven't you?"
"Yes, I have had 'run-ins' as you call them, with Vringath Dregg," Fugitoid said. Vringath Dregg was an insectoid crime lord who was the ruler of the planet Sectoid 1. An incredibly vain alien dictator, Dregg considered himself lord of all insect life in the universe. The Fugitoid and the ninja turtles had had many run-ins with Dregg during their adventures in space.
"I got mad connections with that freaky fly," Bellybomb went on. "He wanted me to find the location of every anulax battery in the galaxy that the Sovereign didn't have. Apparently, he wanted to collect them for a machine to power his hive mind control over his insect minions. Downright creepy. Anyways, if you want anulax batteries, find Dregg. He'll tell you where they are."
"Where is he?" asked Fugitoid.
Bellybomb looked at him in surprise. "You haven't heard? What, you been living under a glark or something?"
"Erm . . . I've been rather . . . preoccupied lately," Fugitoid said.
Bellybomb shrugged. "Well, maybe you missed it, but a council of the galactic empires came together and decided that from this day forward Earth was off-limits to all extraterrestrial interaction."
"A council of galactic empires?" Quill echoed.
"You heard me, Star Boy," said Bellybomb. "The Kree, the Nova Empire, the Triceratons, the Kraang, and the Salamandrians. The rule is that no one is allowed to invade or attack Earth, or aid it in any way. Anyways, Dregg didn't get the memo cause he tried to invade Salamandria and it didn't go so hot. Then he went to Earth and tried again. Failed both times. So the Nova Empire locked him up in the Kyln. If you get him out, he'll tell you anything you wanna hear."
The Kyln. A supermax prison facility in the middle of an asteroid in one of the far sectors of the galaxy. The place was run by Nova Corps. Quill had been there once, and it hadn't been super pleasant. If Dregg was in there there was almost no way they were getting to him.
"So that's it?" Quill said, getting angry. "We came all this way and spent all this time and money just for you to tell us to go ask somebody else?"
Bellybomb craned his eye stalk, peering around the Fugitoid and glaring at Quill. "Pretty big talk coming from pretty boy over here," he said. "Unless you got a thousand units shoved in those pockets, we're done here."
"Let's go, Honeycutt," Quill said. "I knew talking to Tubby Lumpkins was a waste of time."
Bellybomb's eye widened in shock. "What you say!" He placed a hand on the hilt of his blaster. "You lookin' to start something, punk?"
"Okay, Cyclops, if you want me, here I am!" Quill said, throwing aside the hem of his jacket to reveal his own blaster, strapped at his hip. "Think you can manage to waddle over this far?"
"Gentlemen, please—" Fugitoid was interrupted by a crash from outside. They turned to see Gamora, sword drawn, battling a group of Ravager mercenaries who had been making unwanted advantages on her. The Ravagers were no match for the assassin, who defeated them all with ease. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Quill shouted, as Gamora kicked the last one down, holding her blade tip an inch from the man's nose.
Gamora looked up. "Let me finish this!" she yelled.
"It's time to go," Quill said, glaring at Bellybomb.
"I thought you were in trouble," said Gamora.
"Just—" Quill held up a hand and closed his eyes, sighing through his nose. "Just go. Go out."
Gamora stepped back outside, and Quill and Fugitoid followed her. Bellybomb watched them go. "Gamora . . . the most dangerous woman in the universe," he said aloud.
Quill turned, smirking. "Jealous?"
"Yes."
"Where are the others?" Fugitoid asked as they stepped back into the main room. The music was loud, and the crowd seemed to be louder. The sooner they got out of here the better.
"If I know Rocket, somewhere in the middle of that," Quill said, pointing at a large crowd which had gathered around a table.
They ran over to the crowd, pushing their way through the patrons to get to the table. Rocket was taking shots with another guy, while Drax looked on, pounding his friend on the back and cheering loudly.
"Drax!" Quill shouted, grabbing Drax's shoulder. "What are you doing? Why are you encouraging him?"
"He is hilarious, Quill!" Drax roared, pounding the table as he laughed.
"Have you drunk anything?" Gamora asked.
"No," Drax laughed even louder. "I just find this whole situation quite funny!"
Suddenly the whole crowd shouted, and Quill, Gamora and Fugitoid looked up. The old man had taken his fiftieth shot before mumbling a slurred "Excelsior" and hitting the ground and going limp. The crowd was cheering as Rocket staggered onto the table, scraping up his winnings and shoving them in his pockets. He picked up the eyeball, admiring it as he tried to take a bite out of it. A loud crunch was heard as he spat out a broken tooth, then laughed uproariously and put the eyeball in his pocket.
"Rocket, what are you doing?!" Quill shouted over the roar of the crowd.
"Huh?!" Rocket stumbled, caught his balance, and squinted through the crowd, peering for whoever had just called his name. "Oh Quill! Oh, there you are. I'vebeen—I've been looking all over the table for you."
"Rocket, are you drunk again?" Gamora asked.
"Yeah," Rocket said, a leering grin on his drunken face. "Isuhjuss hanging out with my main man Dracks. I wunna bet. Got this." He held up the eye, giggling like an idiot.
"It's time to go, buddy," Quill said. "We're leaving. Now."
"Sorry, Quill, we—I—we—I—I guess I had a lil too musha drink." Rocket laughed maniacally, then looked down at his feet. "Uhpaeweoh, I thingi put my shoes on the wrong feet." He swayed, then toppled over onto the table and lay still, as the crowd cheered even louder.
"Grab him and let's go," Quill told Drax. Drax grabbed the unconscious Rocket and slung him over his shoulder as the group left the Iron Lotus and headed towards where the Milano was parked.
"What the glark are you looking at?"
Rocket sat bolt upright in his cot on the Milano as they hurtled through hyperspace, bound for the Kyln. He had no idea why everyone was crowded around him looking at him. He also had no idea why his head hurt so fricking much.
"He lives," Drax said, bursting into laughter. "He lives!"
"What did you do down there?" Gamora snapped.
Rocket looked at her, his eyes glassy with hangover. "What did who do where?"
"The Iron Lotus."
"The Iron Lotus what?"
"You won a bet with someone on Contraxia," Gamora explained. "You got a hundred credits and a prosthetic eye."
Rocket's hands flew to his pockets. Pawing feebly, he pulled out a handful of credits and the old man's robotic eye. "When was this?" he said, puzzled.
"I hope he doesn't have amnesia," Quill whispered.
"What is magnesia?" Drax asked him.
"One, that's not what I said," said Quill. "Two, it's what happens when something happens to you to make you lose your memory."
"We shall see if Rocket suffers from this disease of anemia," Drax said. Striding up to Rocket, he grabbed the creature's shoulder. "What's your name?"
"Amnesia," Quill muttered.
Rocket glared at Drax. "What's my name?"
"What's your name?!" Drax yelled.
In a flash, Rocket had drawn his laser blaster and aimed its barrel square under Drax's nose. "I'm the frickin' smart one," he growled, slurring his words slightly. "You must be the frickin' dumb one."
Drax let go of Rocket, grinning back at the team. "He's okay," he said.
Rocket holstered his weapon and looked around the ship in confusion. "Hey, where's my Groot?"
Back on Knowhere, Donnie and Cosmo watched a live camera feed from inside the Milano. "What's the plan, Professor?" asked Donnie.
"The way I see it, it looks like we'll be making a short detour to the Kyln," Fugitoid said. "I've synced our teleporter bracelets to Knowhere's teleporter pods, so if there's any trouble you should be able to zip us back up."
"Has Comrade Honeycutt developink plan for break in to supermax floating space prison?" Cosmo asked, his tail wagging excitedly.
"Ehm, not quite, Cosmo old boy," Fugitoid answered, glancing over at Quill who was flying the Milano. "I believe that the plan-making is Mr. Quill's area of expertise."
"You got that right, Fugitoid," said Quill. "And it works every time."
"Yeah," Gamora added. "If his plans are to get us into loads of trouble."
"Hey, for the record, that doesn't always happen," Quill said defensively.
As the crew began to break out into an argument over Quill's plan-forming abilities, Fugitoid turned back to the camera. "We'll check in when we've reached some sort of consensus on the matter. In the meantime, Cosmo, I would appreciate it if you coupled Knowhere's dynamic resonators. The machines have been a bit laggy as of late."
The videoscreen turned off, and Cosmo looked up at Donnie. "Looks like equipment could be usink tune-up."
"All right!" Donnie said. "I've just been hankering to get my hands on all this sweet extraterrestrial tech. Teach me your ways, Cosmo."
The Milano exited hyperspace, near enough to the Kyln orbital prison to be able to see it, but still far away enough to avoid detection. Rocket peered with narrowed eyes out the cockpit window, his vision still slightly blurry from the hangover. "That's it?" he asked.
"That's it, Mr. Raccoon" Fugitoid answered. "The Kyln. An interstellar prison facility operated by the Nova Empire."
"It's decent, as far as Nova Corps standards go," Quill said. He activated the cloaking device on the Milano, rendering the ship invisible to all scanning frequencies. Now the Milano flew towards the Kyln, getting closer.
"First of all, I ain't no stinkin' racoon," Rocket said. He gestured out the window at the Kyln. "Second, that thing looks like a Sdorkti play structure."
"You've broken out of it before, Rocket," said Gamora.
"I have?" Rocket chuckled. "Well, no wonder, when it looks like that. So what's the plan?"
All eyes turned to Quill, who swallowed. "Well . . ." Quill thought rapidly. "We obviously have to wait for an opening. So . . . let's wait."
The Guardians groaned. They'd never been very good at waiting. Drax began polishing his knives as Rocket opened a pouch on his suit and pulled out the splinter of wood that was Groot's remains. When they got back to Knowhere he would have to replant Groot so the tree-like creature would grow back.
Fugitoid opened a channel to Knowhere, and Cosmo's nose appeared in the viewscreen. "Comrade Honeycutt has formink plan now?" the Russian mutant dog asked.
"Of a sort," Fugitoid said hesitantly. "We're waiting for some kind of drop in the prison's defense systems before we make a move."
"I got a plan," Rocket said. They all turned to face him.
"You?" Quill scoffed. "You're still half-drunk, Rocket."
"Any breakout requires three things," Rocket said, counting off on his paw. "You gotta know the layout, you gotta understand the routine, and you gotta have outside help. If you know the layout, the weak points is obvious."
He moved over to a monitor, tapping the keys and soon bringing up a cross-section of the Kyln prison on the monitor. The cross-section had a blinking red dot on it. "In our case, it's the secure housing unit," Rocket said, pointing at the dot. "Nova Corps's expenditure was 17 billion units building that facility. State-of-the-art. Only problem is, it's located next to an unsecured hangar bay. Once we get Dregg, we'll have the Milano pick us up from there."
"Wait," Gamora said suddenly. "Do you see that?"
They all crowded over to the viewscreen. "What?" Quill asked. "What am I looking at?"
"There," Gamora said, pointing the immense, cylindrical Nova Corps heavy cruiser that had just left hyperspace nearby. A shuttle, flanked by two Nova Corps Star Blaster ships, left the cruiser and flew towards the Kyln. "That's as good an opening as any."
"Is that a Xandarian diplomat visiting the Kyln?" Fugitoid asked.
"I think that's exactly what it is," said Quill. He turned. "If we go, we go now. Fugitoid, keep the ship in cloak. Wait for my signal. If you don't get it, get the hell out of here."
Rocket had already slipped on a helmet specially designed to fit his raccoon head and a jetpack of his own invention called an aero-rig. "And don't let Drax touch any of my stuff."
Drax was too busy stuffing a fishbowl space helmet on his head. "I will also partake of this battle, for—"
"You may have attributes, Drax, but stealth is not one of them," Gamora interrupted. "You wait for our word." Wearing an aero-rig and space helmet of her own, she glared at Quill as the trio stepped into the ship's airlock. "Can't believe what you talk me into," she said.
Quill grinned back at her, pressing a button on the side of his head. A light blue energy field wrapped around his head, turning into a helmet with red glowing eyes. "Like you have anything better to do."
The door slid closed, and the airlock opened. Quill, Gamora, and Rocket were sucked out into space where they floated momentarily before activating their jetpacks and flying towards the Kyln. They were small enough that they wouldn't be detected by the station's radar system, and if they were, the controllers would likely dismiss the alert as passing meteors.
Using their jetpacks, they managed to catch up to the Kyln's hangar bay at the same time as the shuttle. The two Star Blaster ships had turned back to the cruiser, and the shuttle now hovered in front of the hangar bay. Quill, Gamora, and Rocket used this moment to stealthily attach themselves to the roof of the shuttle, without being seen.
In the cockpit, the shuttle captain and his copilot made final readings, monitored descent functions. The captain flipped the transmitter switch, and spoke into his mouthpiece. "Kyln Station, this is NC321. Code Clearance Blue. We're starting our approach. Deactivate the security shield."
Static filtered over the receiver, and then the voice of the port controller: "The security deflector shield will be deactivated when we have confirmation of your code transmission. Please stand by."
The security shield began to separate, forming a clear channel through which the shuttle flew into the hangar bay and landed. A dozen or so prison guards stood assembled in formation, flanking the base of the shuttle ramp. They snapped to attention as Denarian Garthan Saal, the prison official in charge, entered.
The landing ramp slid open, and a woman dressed in a blue uniform with her white hair in an elaborate hairdo stepped out, flanked by two Nova Corps soldiers. Denarian Sal closed his right hand into a fist and placed it over his heart in the Nova Corps salute. "Nova Prime," he said. "We are honored by your presence."
"You may dispense with the formalities, Denarian," Nova Prime said. "I am here for a tour of the prison facilities."
"I assure you, ma'am, you'll find everything in order here," Denarian Sal said. "Refreshments are waiting for you in the control room." They moved towards the lift. The shuttle sat silently, dwarfed by the massive size of the hangar bay. The prison guards dispersed, heading back to their stations. A couple of janitors scrubbed the floors, but other than them the hangar bay was empty.
When the coast was clear, Rocket, Gamora, and Quill slid to the ground. "Listen up!" Rocket said. "Denarian's gonna put them on a gantry-lift for the tour. I'm gonna sneak on top of the lift, and ride it all the way to the control room. I'll hack into their systems and find out where they're holding this Dregg guy. Then you two knuckleheads go find him and see what he knows."
They broke, and Rocket scampered across the hangar floor to the lift, which Nova Prime and Denarian Saal had just entered. Wrenching a cover off an air vent on the wall, he hoisted himself up and swung his legs inside, climbing on top of the lift just as it began to move. Hoping and praying he wouldn't be smashed against the ceiling of the shaft, he waited until the machine slowed down and the doors opened, and Denarian and Nova Prime had left.
He climbed up the elevator cables until he reached a wide plastoid duct in the air control system. Lifting off the filtering screen, he disappeared through the hole. He was now outside the elevator shaft and in the middle of a matrix of computer panels and wires. Air vents in the floor gave him a view of the control room below. Operators moved along the bank of panels, monitoring all the traffic in the prison, authorizing guard routes, accessing certain areas to certain prisoners. Denarian and Nova Prime walked to the large viewscreen overlooking the prison's main floor.
Rocket moved over to a tangle of computer wires and unplugged the system, hooking it up to a small handheld control pad. Below, the control room monitors flicked off for a millisecond before they turned back on, as the entire prison systems had just been rerouted to Rocket's pad. The controllers looked nervously at each other. It must have been a power surge. Besides, they didn't want to raise any issues with the Nova Prime on the station.
"Alright, I'm in," Rocket said. "Let's see what this baby can do." The screen on his pad showed a layout of the prison cells in red, signifying that they were locked. Rocket tapped the controls, and Cell 2187 turned green.
Inside Cell 2187, a hulking blue alien was rolling over on his cot, trying to enjoy some sleep when the door suddenly beeped and opened. He looked up from his bed in confusion. He wasn't scheduled for recreation time for at least another cycle. He waited for the guards to charge in and subdue him to take him to the processing center, but no guards came.
Curious now, he stood up, walking over to the door and peering out. The hallway was empty. Never one to pass up an opportunity, the alien stepped outside and went for a stroll. Passing one of the cells, another prisoner saw him and shouted.
The blue alien held a finger to his lips, indicating for silence, but it was too late. One of the sphere-shaped prison drones, alerted by the noise, flew over and aimed its blasters at the escaped prisoner. "Prisoners are to return to their cells immediately or face repercussions," the drone said in a monotone robotic voice.
Suddenly the door on Cell 2184 opened behind the drone, and two other prisoners stepped out. The drone was now surrounded by a trio of muscular, hulking prisoners. The monstrous inmate grinned wickedly.
"Prisoners are to return to their—" the drone repeated, but it never got a chance to finish its sentence. The inmates leaped on the drone, attempting to hold it down and tear it to pieces with their bare hands.
Rocket, watching the entire thing from the security cameras he'd hacked into, chuckled. "All right, Quill, we are in business," he said, opening another cell.
In the control room below, one of the security officers watched the footage from the drone of the prisoners attempting to break out. He paled, and motioned for the supervising officer, Corpsman Rhomann Dey. Dey, a man with curly brown hair and a pudgy face, took one look at the monitor and grimaced. Glancing nervously up at the viewport, where Denarian Saal was making a well-prepared speech of the prison's operation to Nova Prime, he whispered, "Reroute more drone patrols to section AA. We don't to make a scene in front of the Prime. Denarian's been planning his speech for months."
As the security officer did as he was told, Corpsman Dey moved to leave, heading for the barracks to try and alert more of the guards. He pressed the button for the door to the lift, and nothing happened. He pressed it again and again, but still nothing. Swallowing hard, he realized everyone in the control room was trapped.
The hallways began to fill with more and more rioting prisoners as Rocket radioed Quill. "Quill, we're in phase two. I just opened every cage in this freak show except the ones in secure housing. When you hear the music, head for the secure housing unit and get me the number of Dregg's cell."
"Music?" Quill asked. He patted his pockets. "Wait. Where's my Zune?"
Rocket ended the transmission, plugging Quill's Zune handheld music player into the system. "Sometimes picking pockets is too easy," he said, selecting a random song. Throughout the entire prison, "Back in Town" by Tuxedo began blasting over the comms and speakers.
In the control room below, Corpsman Dey had approached Denarian Saal and Nova Prime. "Sorry, sir, I don't mean to interrupt you, but we've got kind of a situation here."
As Nova Prime heard the music coming over the speakers, she sighed, looking out the viewport. "Peter Quill."
Quill and Gamora left the hangar and snuck through the prison towards the maximum-security wing. Occasionally they would hear a foot patrol running towards the riot and melt back into a doorway or a storage closet.
When they reached the max-security wing, they were pleasantly surprised to see no guards. It was obvious that all hands were on deck to try and stop the prison riot. Gamora walked around, looking at the beings locked in these cells. Each one was extremely dangerous.
"Well, at least they got a really cool sign," Quill said. As they approached one of the cages, the clear glass wall had shimmered slightly, and words formed out of orange holograms began to appear. "Check it out."
The words read: Name: WYRM. Also known as: REALITY-BENDING CREATOR OF CHAOS. Skills: BENDING REALITY | GRANTING WISHES. The creature inside the cage, trapped in an energy field that neutralized his powers and prevented any movement, had a huge huge oyster-like head with worm -like tubes for hair and a tentacle for his left leg. He wore a green suit with yellow ornaments and red gloves.
"Aw, this little guy is pretty cute!" Quill said. "Maybe Cosmo can use him as a chew toy."
The next cage held a woman with long, flowing black hair dressed in black and green Asgardian robes. The words on her cage read: Name: HELA ODINSDOTTIR. Also known as: GODDESS OF DEATH | EXECUTIONER OF ASGARD. Species: ASGARDIAN. She too was suspended in an energy field that prevented her from using her powers. It didn't prevent her from glaring daggers at Quill and Gamora.
"Goddess of Death?" Quill read aloud, nudging Gamora. "Looks like you've found a playmate, Gamora. Or a rival. She's kinda hot."
Gamora rolled her eyes and snorted. "Please. You hit on enough questionable women, Quill." She moved on to the next cage. "Listen to what this one says. Name: ARMAGGON. Skills: BOUNTY HUNTING | ASSASSINATION. WANTED IN 87 STAR SYSTEMS."
This cage contained a hulking shark-like alien. "I've heard of this guy," Quill said. "He's behind countless thefts and extortion acts. I think he also shredded an entire trade fleet that I was gonna pull a heist from. We've got beef."
Finally they found Dregg's cage. Inside was a purple insect alien with green transparent wings, a tai ending in pincers, razor-sharp fingers, and a very muscular build. The words read: Name: VRINGATH DREGG. Also known as: LORD DREGG | RULER OF SECTOID 1. Skills: ACID SPIT, EXTENDING ARMS, INSECT MISSILES.
"We found him," Quill radioed Rocket. "And he's one ugly son of a svarlnakk. Rocket, open Cell 3263827."
"Sure thing, Quill!" Rocket answered. "You really gotta come and see this riot. It's frickin' hilarious! Go prisoners!" The cell door on Dregg's cell opened, and the energy field shimmered and dissipated. Dregg fell to the floor.
Quill and Gamora rushed in, helping the bug to his feet. "Unhand me, you fools!" Dregg shouted, standing up of his own accord. He began laughing sinisterly. "Ah, ha haha! I'm free at last! Now the universe will tremble before the might of Lord Vringath Dregg!"
"Yeah, you're gonna have to quit it with the creepy laugh, Chuckles," Quill said.
Dregg glared at Quill. "You're a sorry excuse for an Earth creature. Who are you, anyway?"
"The legendary Star-Lord, your highness," said Quill. "And we're busting you out of here."
"Against our better judgement," Gamora muttered.
Dregg frowned, squinting his eyes. "Star-Lord? I'm not familiar with the name. Such a being of my elevated status deserves to be rescued with a little notoriety, wouldn't you agree?"
"Dude, this guy's more puffed up than an abilisk on frakakta jelly," Quill murmured.
"Leave it to me," Gamora said, stepping forward. "Your Lordship Dregg, we are humbled to be in your presence," she said, bowing exaggeratedly. "We require information that only your great mind can provide, and to pay for it we are prepared to break you out of this prison that would dare to try and contain your greatness."
Dregg smiled. "I like this one," he said. "Gamora, daughter of Thanos, correct?" Gamora grimaced visibly at the "daughter of Thanos" part. "I accept your request, with one condition. My comrade Armaggon is trapped here as well. Free the both of us, and I will tell you whatever you wish to know."
"Sure," Quill said, walking towards Armaggon's cage. "What's one more dangerous bounty hunter in our crew? Rocket, open Cell 3263820."
"You got it, O Legendary Star-Lord," Rocket said, laughing. The door slid open, the energy field disappeared, and Armaggon strode out.
He stretched, and yawned. "Feels good to get a breath of fresh air. I feel naked without my suit, though." He looked at Quill. "Oh, wow. To what do I owe the favor of the mighty Star-Prince coming to my aid?"
"It's Star-Lord, Armaggon," Quill said. "And I'm not rescuing you for you. I'm doing it for Dregg. Although I'm not really sure why."
"How rude," Armaggon said. "Your old partner." He looked at Dregg. "Alright, Dregg, let's get out of this death trap. I'll need my suit first."
All prisoners were stripped of their weapons, clothes, and equipment when they arrived at the Kyln, and this equipment was stored in a room near the entry point of the prison. As they headed there, Quill's comlink beeped. "Quill, I will join you now in battle," said Drax.
"We're not in battle," Quill said. "Stay put." The last thing they needed right now was Drax running their getaway ship into battle like a Kronan in a china shop.
"Who are you talking to?" Dregg asked.
"The rest of my team," Quill answered.
"Why are they not here?"
"Because I'm smart," said Quill, prompting an uproarious laugh from Armaggon.
They reached the equipment room, which Rocket opened remotely. Armaggon entered, grabbing a large shark-shaped suit of armor off the wall. The suit was designed so that Armaggon was essentially a shark within a shark, his head poking out of the suit's "mouth." It was also enormous, doubling Armaggon's already-large size so that he was too big to fit through the equipment room's door. "You boys might wanna back up," he said, sliding a pair of glowing goggles with a harness over his eyes. He aimed the armor's shoulder-mounted missiles at the door and fired. The entire wall blew off, launching stuff everywhere, and Armaggon strode through the hole.
"Alright," he said, stretching and flexing. "That's more like it."
A sudden laser blast caught their attention. A group of prison guards had appeared around the corner, and the team opened fire. Peter and Gamora used non-lethal attacks. They were the good guys, and these guards were only doing their jobs. They didn't want anyone to get hurt.
Armaggon and Dregg, however, were not bound by moral scruples. Dregg swallowed one of the guards whole, then spit some kind of acid vomit onto another guard, who screamed as he disintegrated. Armaggon's suit was too big to use in this closed space, but he still managed to take down some of the guards in brutal hand-to-hand combat.
Once the guards were gone, the four escapees bolted for the hangar. Unfortunately, they had to run right through the rioting mob in the center of the prison. Quill and Gamora ran, ducking, dodging, weaving, trying to avoid the punches and stun batons. Dregg managed to fly over the commotion, and Armaggon waded through, throwing aside anyone who got in his way.
They reached the lift doors and entered, reaching the hangar just in time to see the Milano fly in and land nearby. Rocket was waiting for them, blasting away at prison guards who were coming from separate lifts. "Come on!" he shouted to them.
Armaggon activated his suit, and the metal teeth closed over his face. Withdrawing his arms and legs into the suit, he turned into a giant robot shark with lasers and missiles. Flying through the air, he blasted away, chomping on some of the guards and blasting others. He landed next to Rocket, who looked the suit up and down, quite impressed. "How much for the fancy shark suit?" he asked.
"Not for sale," said Armaggon.
Rocket shrugged. "Be that way." He squeezed the trigger, and the gun clicked empty. "Rats," he muttered, throwing the prosthetic eye he'd won on Contraxia at one of the guards with such force that it knocked the guard onto his back. This bought Rocket some time to reload.
Drax, holding another guard by the throat, had seen the whole thing. "You brought the eyeball?" he asked, throwing the guard across the room.
"Yeah, cause I knew you were gonna mess with it if I left it on the ship," Rocket said.
"I would not mess with someone else's eyeball!" Drax protested. "I was planning on borrowing it. And how did you get it into your space suit, anyway? They do not have pouches."
"I didn't," Rocket laughed. "I had to shove it up my—"
"I'll hold 'em off for you, Quill," Armaggon told Quill. "I'm a little out-of-practice, and this sparring session's just what I need. I'd love to stay, but I've got places to go, people to eat, things to steal."
"Yep," Quill said, firing at some of the guards. "I guess this is goodbye. Again."
"Yeah," Armaggon said. "This was pretty fun. We gotta do it again sometime."
"Maybe," Quill said noncommittally. "If I need you I'll call."
"Oh, and Quill, for the record, I'm sorry about that whole Rigel 7 business."
"Yeah," Quill said, grabbing Dregg by the arm and hauling him towards the ship. "So am I." On the heels of blaster fire, the group boarded the Milano with Dregg in tow. Armaggon transformed into his shark suit and flung himself on the group of prison guards, laughing maniacally.
In the pilot's seat, Fugitoid pulled back on a thruster, and the Milano roared to life. He threw a switch, and the ship zoomed out of the Kyln up into the blackness of space.
Quill turned to Rocket. "You have my Walkman?"
Rocket tossed Quill the Walkman. "Why you insist on carrying around that outdate piece of earth tech I'll never understand."
"It's called sentimentality, ring-tail," Quill said. He took the pilot's seat from Fugitoid, who got up and went to the rear of the hold.
Dregg glared at the Fugitoid. "Fugitoid," he said. "I remember you."
"Likewise, I'm sure," Fugitoid replied coldly. "Know that if there were any other way to do this, then I would. But we need information that you have."
Dregg laughed. "What makes you think I would tell you pathetic fools anything?"
"We rescued you, genius!" Rocket said.
"And so I owe you, something?" Dregg laughed some more. "Foolish raccoon. I will never tell you anything."
Rocket's teeth clenched. "Don't call me a—!"
Suddenly Drax leaped across the room and punched Dregg hard in the face, sending the bug alien lord to the ground. "Dude!" Rocket shouted. "Woah! Hey!"
Drax looked at him. "Nobody talks to my friends like—" His sentence was cut short by Dregg, who had grabbed Drax's face with both hands and slammed him into the floor of the ship, emitting an insectoid shriek. The alien lord threw Drax towards the front of the ship, where he crashed hard into a control panel next to Quill.
The ship began to buck wildly, flying aimlessly at increasingly high speeds. The Guardians were thrown around inside the ship. Quill went flying from the pilot's chair, crashing into the back of the ship. He could see they were headed for an asteroid at full speed, and at this course they'd crash into it and explode. And probably die.
Quill flapped his arms and legs like a drowning swimmer, trying frantically to reach the ship's controls. "Come on, come one, come on!" he said.
"Primordial idiots!" Dregg screeched. "I will feast upon you all!" His hands popped off his wrists, turning into little spider-like creatures attached to his wrists by long veiny tendrils. The spider-hands shot forward, grabbing Quill's ankle and pulling him back towards Dregg's open mouth.
"Agh!" Quill shouted. "Uh, help, guys!"
"Get your freaky paws off my captain!" Rocket shouted, blasting away at Dregg. Dregg let go of Quill, who pushed off the ceiling and flew towards the cockpit. They had seconds. Maybe less than seconds.
He shoved Drax, still groggy from being thrown into the controls, out of the chair. "Drax, get out of the way!" he said.
Drax grunted softly as he floated out of the chair. Grabbing the flight yoke with both hands, Quill leveled the ship out, pulling up as hard as he could. The Milano missed the asteroid's surface by a hair's breadth, and they all crashed to the floor.
One of Dregg's hands crawled towards Rocket, grabbing him by the tail and dragging him backwards. "Oh, come on man!" Rocket shouted as he fired desperately at Dregg.
"Now, let's all try to calm down, and—" Fugitoid said. Dregg interrupted him by vomiting a stream of acid which would surely have hit him had Gamora not grabbed him and yanked him out of the way. She slid towards Dregg, performing a vicious uppercut kick that caught him squarely in the chin. He shrieked and let go of Rocket, who scampered away as fast as his paws could carry him. Drax brought his knives down, stabbing Dregg in the back with one and slicing a hand off with the other.
The severed spider-hand hit the floor, flipped right side up, and scurried towards Rocket, who screamed and trained his energy rifle on it. "Frick you!" he shouted. Laser blasts flew everywhere as the Guardians dove for cover.
"You are blowing holes in the ship!" Drax shouted.
"This is where we live!" Quill added.
"Yeah, I know!" Rocket said, his trigger finger squeezing incessantly as the spider-hand danced around the blasts. "I also live in my skin, which I don't want this thing on!" He stomped down on the hand and jammed the barrel into it, firing nonstop for about five seconds until it was nothing but charred ash. "Yeah!" he crowed. "You like that?!"
Gamora pounced on Dregg, pinning her sword blade against his throat. "We should throw you off the ship to die in the far reaches of space. Give us the coordinates for the anulax batteries. Now."
Dregg squirmed a little. "Take me to Sectoid 1. My home. Then I will tell you what you seek, daughter of Thanos."
He grimaced as the blade pressed down harder on his neck. "Tell me what I want to know or you will be ejected immediately," Gamora snarled. "And I am not the daughter of Thanos."
"Belebome could find only two anulax batteries that are not possessed by the Sovereign," Dregg spluttered. "One is on Hala and the other resides on Ego's planet."
"If we go there, and we find no batteries," Gamora warned, "I personally will find you. I will kill you. And I will do something rather unseemly with your skull."
Before they could do anything, she dragged him to the airlock and threw him inside. Shutting the door, she pushed the button, and Lord Dregg was sucked into space without another word. The Guardians were slightly shocked by this display.
"We've got the locations," she said, heading towards the back of the ship. "Let's go home."
They looked around at each other in silence. "Well . . ." Fugitoid said at last. "That's that, I suppose. Let's get back to Knowhere."
But unbeknownst to the Guardians, Dregg was still alive. Shortly after he'd been cast out of the airlock, a wasp-shaped spacecraft appeared out of hyperspace, sucking him inside. It was the Hornetron, Dregg's personal starfighter.
Now seated inside the cockpit, Dregg activated the ship's comm systems and dialed up the Sovereign, a race of gold-skinned highly genetically advanced race. On the holoscreen in front of him, the Golden High Priestess Ayesha appeared, staring regally at the camera. "Lord Vringath Dregg," she said disdainfully. "I thought you dead, or imprisoned."
"Afraid not, Lady High Priestess," Dregg said. "But I bring to your attention a matter of urgency."
"What could a common criminal possibly have to offer the Sovereign?" Ayesha sniffed.
"I am hardly a common criminal!" Dregg said in disdain. "My knowledge knows no bounds. My wisdom is infinite. The cursed Guardians of the Galaxy infringed upon my person, offending me to no end. I would enjoy nothing more than seeing their demise, as would you. They seek to rob you of your most prized possessions, the anulax batteries. Our forces together can stop them."
He began to laugh, a sinister rumbling laugh that caused Ayesha to crack a smile. The Guardians would indeed pay for their insolence.