Chapter Eleven Sisters: part three; Un-armed combat.

Rocket Flinched and snarled as the hot ashes from the deathstick rained down on him, but Quill had got reading the racoons expressions down to a fine art, and he saw his lip curl in recognition rather than pain.

"Oooh, sorry there Roc' didn't mean to get you there. You got ash in your eye?" Chirped the voice synthesiser on the insectoid alien's throat-armour, weirdly cheery and upbeat. Quill couldn't tell if that was intentional sarcasm or if the alien had just left the device on it's default settings.

Jesus, he sounds like an auto-cab or one of those damn sentient elevators. Quill thought.

For a long time there was no noise but the creaking of the air-vents and creak of the fan.

Rocket turned his pained snarl into what could only be described as an evil leer, as he looked up at the figure leaning on the pillory and smoking casually.

"Shang-Lo-Pan Azulon: what rock did you crawl out from under, you old cut-throat? Rumour was you were retired. Couldn't cut it in the big leagues anymore, yeah?" spat the racoon, scarring the room with suspicious eyes.

"Krom, you still fucking about the galaxy with this villain? Come on man, you're better than that, show some self-respect: don't let yourself get used as dumb muscle by someone smaller and nastier than you, that's just sad, right Groot?"

"I am Groot?"

"It is a co-dependent relationship, you're damn right. Unhealthy too." Said Rocket, eyeing them up from his Pilloried position.

"Like to end badly." He snarled. And then, to Quills surprise, both Rocket and the insectoid burst out laughing, and then fist-bumped, Rocket somewhat reluctantly, wincing as his wounded paw made contact.

"Oooh, sorry, that looks nasty. You still breaking your own metacarpals to slip out of restraints?" chirped Shan-Lo-Pan, smoking.

"Would prefer to bust yours but that's hardly an option given the whole exoskeleton thing. Where you bin' man? I heard you Quit?"

"Meh, took a year or two off. Semi-retired, if you like. You don't just up and quit on Mister Knife, which kind of brings us back to his interest in your pelt Roc'. Tell me, did you have to rob Count Bligh on your way out? Knocking over the boss's bank half way through your last job, takes some balls. Ones that the boss would quite like delivered to him in instalments using a mandolin. You bit the hand, old boy, you bit the hand that fed you." Chirped the assassin cheerfully, still toying with his knife.

"Story of my life. 'sides, can you honestly say you liked the taste of what he fed us? Because if smells like shit and it tastes like shit then it's probably-"

"Wait, wait." said Quill, interrupting. "You two know each other?"

"That much is self-evident from context." Muttered Drax, moodily. "Do not discuss matters with such honourless thugs Quill. Instead work on freeing yourself from this irksome confinement…. And on a comeback of suitable wittiness so that I may show my wit and acumen to Nebula before I rip out her spine."

Everyone in the room paused and stared at him for a moment.

"You're stuck in a wall, so yeah… witty. Okay." Said Quill, before turning back to the thugs. "So you're what? Friends?"

There was a momentary pause, before Rocket and the Two thugs bust out laughing: loudly and for some time. Eventually they settled down.

"ahahaha, oy boy, that's classic! Where'd you find this one, Rocket?" buzzed the wasp.

"Hehe, bag-and-tag job on Xandar. Nah, Quill. We ain't friends, we just worked together at Viderdoom: when Bligh and the boss didn't have use of us, he'd farm us out, on freelance bounties and… other jobs. And since Bligh ran the biggest bounty brokering operation in the galaxy, and given people who were bounties could hire bodyguards, or take out bounties on others in retaliation, you never knew when you'd come up against one of your own in the field, and have to take them out. It didn't pay to have friends. No, me and Shang here must have tried to kill each other, what? Seven times?"

"Seven." Chirped the wasp, happily.

"Yeah, all business, nothing personal. You meet up when you're not on the clock you might maybe buy each other a drink, but that's it. We worked together a few times too: complementary skill sets."

"This little S.O.B here would get me in and out of some of my assassination jobs, and I'd do the wetwork… or if it was a heist he was planning I'd cause I diversion and he'd empty out the vaults or similar. Good guy to work with, efficient, sense of humour, good shot. No, were not friends just… oh shoot and darn, you don't have a work for it in your language…. Friendly enemies?" said the insectoid, smoking.

There was a rapid buzz! sound and a dull thud. Quill glanced sideways.

The wasp's wavy-bladed dagger was embedded up to its hilt in the solid metal of the pillory between Quill's head and his hand.

Shang-Lo-Pan Azulon leaned on Rocket's pillory, and took another drag on his deathstick, as behind him out the windows, explosions rocked Knowhere.

"Yes…. That would be a good translation. Very friendly enemies. Which is why we've been given instructions to flay you alive if you even try to escape. But hey…" he said, blowing out smoke rings from his back an watching with emotionless, shimmering compound eyes "No hard feelings."

"Oh." Said Quill, still glancing at the Knife. "Goody."

Gamora ducked behind a fast-food stall in the street just in time, as behind her the surface of the street itself exploded.

She glanced up, into the refection in a groundcar's windshield.

Behind her, the Terran woman, Tabby, Meltdown, stood silhouetted in the doorway of the burning building as her fire-retardant duster snapped and billowed in the convection currents.

The silhouette moved it's head, and Gamora realised she'd been spotted.

Diving sideways just as the pulse of concussive force knocked the fast food cart back, Gamora rolled and righted herself unthinkingly, and was up and sprinting from muscle memory before she realised. She glanced at the street in front of her, once, and adjusted, running up the back of a parked groundcar, jumping from that onto a minding pod as the car behind her exploded, and then up the diagonal slant of a illuminator poll that they knocked over months ago in their fight with Ronan, onto the roof from that, build up speed, jump the street, change direction, wall-run round back toward her….

-and just as Gamora had got into a position where she was coming at Tabby at speed, from above, sword ready, one of those damn portals opened up in front of her and a tentacle shot out of the wall, smashing into the shop opposite, and neatly clotheslining her, sending her dropping to the street suddenly.

"Ha! Nice one Squidward!" yelled a voice, giving Gamora just enough warning to roll sideways as a fireball shot overhead. Gamora cursed, fired off a shot from her laser and rolled into the cover of a dumpster, which then exploded.

Damn: I could take out that woman if I could blindside her, but those tentacles keep tripping me up!

Gamora ducked back down an alley, waiting, and threw a knife when the Terran ran around the corner after her, making Tabby squeal and slip as she tried to dodge it. Gamora was up and running at her with her pistol raised, but rather than fall Meltdown fired of a small explosion from her right palm at the floor to propel herself back upright, and quickly summoned a beach-ball sized ball of plasma in front of her head with the left palm to block the shots.

Gamora's eyes opened with shock, imagining the size of the explosion when that plasma ball burst, when a portal opened up to one side of her head, and a tentacle shot out, narrowly missing her head and slamming thought the wall on the opposite side of the alleyway.

Thinking quickly Gamora grabbed Tabby's left-hand and shoved it through the portal.

There was an instant explosion and a spray of evil-smelling purple ichor, and the portal closed and the tentacle was cut off with a pained yelp.

Tabby shrieked as the goo sprayed her in the face, "Ewww, Gross!" she yelled, before slamming her right palm into Gamora's chest.

Bang!

The explosion threw the two women apart, sending them both skidding down along the floor. Gamora, wincing at the burn to the front and side of her body-glove, was the first up and onto her knees, shooting. Tabby got a palm up just in time, sending a stream of concussive force in to the path of the shots, ionizing the air and changing the path of the laser. She was then up and firing off small jets of concussive force with each hand and she ran sideways across Gamora's line of sight towards cover. Gamora noted Meltdown was making the same "pistol-fingers" gesture that Quill did, as she shot back at Gamora, trying to duck the concussive jets, flying groundcars and other random bits of debris. Another portal opened to one side, and Gamora had to run as the tentacle tried to chase her down the alleyway.

And this would be so much easier if the damn woman wasn't playing music all the time as she fought! What is with Terran's?! She thought, as Tabby's iPod blared out for her enhanced hearing to hear.

Tabby's Work-out playlist: Patty Smith; The Warrior.

But it had some benefits: the portals opening made a distinctive noise, and between that and the music she could keep tabs on the position of her hostiles pretty well.

Wonder if they can find me as easily? Gamora pondered. She then smiled, and ducked down a maze of back-alleys. She'd have to be careful on how much of lead she gave them: too little and they'd catch up too fast, too much and they might lose her.

Now where to lead them….. ah….

A few minutes later, a slightly winded Tabby ran into a small courtyard, with one of the large tanks of yellow Celestial spinal-fluid blooping to itself in the middle of the space.

Tabby looked up, as Kuthunlon materialised a tentacle over her shoulder.

"huh… uggg, need to work on my cardio still. You sure she went this way Squidward?"

"Skrerererere?"

"Whatever." Said Tabby, scanning the courtyard. There was utterly no cover except for the big tank. With all the bubbles popping up, it was difficult to tell if anyone in there might be breathing under there or not.

"Oh gosh: I wonder where she could be hiding?" Tabby asked, sarcastically, walking up to the edge of the tank and peering in. "Okay sister, hop out, I've got you covered!"

The tank declined to reply.

Tabby narrowed her eyes. "Hey, Tamora or whoever, your sister was kind of picky about the whole bring her in alive thing, but seeing as you have tried to shoot me like twelve times in five minutes, I'm more than willing to blow you the fuck up! Come on up out of there!"

Silence.

Tabby frowned, looked once to Kuthunlon, and then back again to the pool.

"Fine, be like that: your sister is weird and nasty anyway." Said Tabby, raising both hands over her head and summoning a large fireball, while Kuthunlon orbited over the pool. "If you want to be like that…"

Tabby dropped the bomb, thrusting it down deep into the pool, and suddenly learned three things at once.

One, Spinal Fluid is mostly water.

Two, Water is a non-Newtonian fluid. It doesn't compress, so it behaves more like a solid when exposed to concussive force.

Three, if you're going to detonate a large explosion at the bottom of a vat of a non-Newtonian fluid, stand more than three feet from the edge.

BOOM!

Tabby backfliped through the air as the vat split and the fluid fountained up into her, spraying violently yellow spinal fluid all over the place. Tabby was slammed with some force into the wall of one of the processing sheds surrounding the pool. She got off lucky: A jet of high-power fluid cut the orbiting Kuthunlon tentacle in half like a shaped charge, and then violent yellow rain started to fall all over the area, sticky, salty and rank.

Tabby, slumped at the bottom of the wall, slowly raised both arms, looking at the dripping mess it had made of her clothes, before violently shaking her hands, wincing as the fluid slithered of her.

"Ewwwwwww! I'm all covered in goo!"

"Bet that's not the first time you've said that." said Gamora. Tabby looked up.

Gamora dropped from below the eaves of the building onto Tabby's chest, winding her and pinning both of her hands to her side with her thighs, sword at her throat.

"Don't, don't even think about it." Warned Gamora. "I've had more than enough experience with terrans, I know your behavioural tells, so don't even think about it or I'll… I'll…" What do terran's do to each other as a threat?

Gamora remembered what Quill had said once. "Or I'll put a stick up your butt. Like Kevin Bacon."

"Ew, Really? Content warning! Why are celebs always such perverts?"

Gamora glanced down, and snatched something off of the lapel of Tabby's leather Duster.
"And I'll destroy your Walkman… thing. How… how is this so tiny? Terran Tech shouldn't be this small!"

"I know, right? I keep losing the damn thing. Like, this one time at Xavier's I dropped it in cerebro by mistake and mutants started to get music stuck in their heads right across the world. Wouldn't be so bad but I had it set to Leonard Cohen: apparently global rates of depression shot right up and-"

Gamora shushed her, banging her head against the wall. "Do Terran's ever stop talking?"

"I don't know, I'm clearly an Aquarius!" yelled Tabby, angrily.

"Look, tell me where Gamora is and what she's planning or I will stab you!" threatened Gamora.

"Ugg, Typical Gemini: used to getting her way and when she doesn't, she'll make sure you know that she isn't happy with you!"

"What?"

"What?"

They both stared for a moment, Tabby sighed.

"Uggg, fine. Your stupid sister is at the dock, trying to find some way to get pass that stupid Nova blockade, with that stupid robot, and the sniper with way too much mascara."

"Thank you!" said Gamora, levering up her prisoner one handed and marching her towards the docks, "Now see, that wasn't that hard was it?" she said, rounding the corner and onto the main street, facing the docks.

She stopped dead, her face freezing.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Said Gamora.

Literally every other surface between her and the docks had tentacles growing out of it, and more and more portals were forming mid-air, creating a 3 dimensional maze of angry bleeding tentacles between her and the target.

She stared.

"Right." She said. "Fine, we do it the hard way." She said, hefting her sword

Outside the window beyond the pillories, there was another loud bang, and in the middle distance a jet of yellow goo shot into the air.

Quill, Drax, Groot and Rocket winced.

"The explosions are getting closer to our current location." muttered Drax, in a murmur and low and rumbling as the creaking of the building's old air vents.

"That could be good news or bad." Said Quill. "Good news, Gamora is getting closer. Bad news, Gamora is getting closer but still fighting someone."

"Harrumph, hope you're getting paid overtime Shang, you do not want to be here when Gamora arrives." Said Rocket. "You've met Nebula, right? Seen how much of a badass she is? So now imagine fighting the tougher sister?"

"Sounds fun." Said the insect, glancing out the window. "Epic assassin on assassin fight? When's the last time you saw that?"

Rocket scratched his chin, and then winced at the pain it caused in his free paw. "Vallertron Underhive, you and me and Meeks vs that Skrull infiltrator Broken Blade had hired, right? Big fight in the ore-smelting plant, little bastard kept shapeshifting into copies of each of us, try and throw us off who was who?"

Shang laughed. "Ah, good times. You trying to sniff the guy out, Meeks trying to cut a way out, the fight in the zero-g steel processing." The insectoid sighed.

"You were right to get out when you did, Roc'. The Game now a days: used to be, hit-men were the lowest of the low, just thugs with guns who got caught more often than not, the guys who weren't good for anything else in organised crime and wanted to prove themselves… so the few of us who could get in and out and not get caught, the guys like you who could actually hit a barn door, we could name our own price, we were something special.

"Now that Nova and the Kree have made peace… Nova let go of almost all their Black ops forces, Kree have had huge cuts in the size of its armed forces: there are so many out-of-work spies and special forces that they're forming Freikorps all over the Kree Empire… Ronan was just the tip of the pimple, you can't move for out of work killers. The bottom had fallen right out of the market. Wages are right down, and no one gives you any respect."

"I am Groot."

Shang frowned, and then looked to Rocket for a translation.

"The big sap says You should unionise." Suppled Rocket, a faint sneer giving away what he thought of that idea.

"Meeks said that." Rumbled Krom. Quill was suppressed, he didn't know the guy could speak.

"He did indeed say that." agreed Shang.

"And?" asked Rocket.

Shang shrugged. "The boss sold him to some insane guy looking for pit-fighters, to die in gladiatorial combat." Said the insect cheerfully.

Rocket nodded: that's about what he'd expect from the boss.

"If you're so tired of it, what don't you just up and quit?" wheedled Rocket, trying to sound casual. "Nova has some pretty good consulting jobs at the moment-"

Shang laughed "And end up like you? Pass. I'm not taking any risks now a days: I'm a family man now."

Rocked balked, visibly surprised. "You and Azula finally tied the knot?"

"Yay, I love weddings." said Quill, sarcastically, from floor level. Shang ignored it, it was beneath him, but Rocket snorted.

"They were already married, hell, I was at their wedding: I mean they finally tied the knot. As in Knotting: these guys, their junk actually locks into the female's during sex, perfectly normal if you ask me, but no, these insects have to make sex even grosser than it was already. See, they have exoskeletons, no soft parts, so for them sex is like some really horrifying origami with complex, fold out, interlocking parts."

"It is worryingly like building flat pack furniture." Suppled Shang, cheerfully.

"And much like flat pack furniture it ends messily." Said Rocket, snorting. "'cause once a male's got in there and it's locked in place, there no way for him to unfold all the chitin plates, so sex has to end with the female ripping his dick off."

Quill swore "Jesus!" and both him and Drax winced. Even Groot looked uncomfortable. Rocket just laughed.

"Yeah, talk about poping your cherry! Favourite joke of mine: with these guys, they are all literally either virgins or dickless. The jokes practically write themselves!"

"There are plenty of species that only mate once in their lives." Said Shang, calmly. At which point Rocket said "Quill for one" at the exact same time that Quill said "that's once more than Rocket", and the two of them glared.

"My joke was better." Said Quill. "High five? Anyone? I mean, I guys it's a technically a low-five but…" he noticed the looks he was getting, and coughed.

"So what, she gets to keep it, like a really weird keepsake?" asked Quill.

"Well, given it stays in place, balls and all, and fuses with the females circulatory system so she can self-fertilize in future, kind of." Said Shang, smoking. "It means that both sexes can only mate once, so it's a big commitment, not to be rushed."

"Jesus!" muttered Quill. Rocket laughed.

"So, what, you did the whole ritual thing, white robes and all? Big bowls of incense, hours of chanting, public consummation, blood sacrifice of your enemies, cobb salad, maybe a DJ for the after party?"

"Yep." Said Shang, cheerfully.

"And you didn't invite me? I'm offended. Hurt." Said Rocket, sarcastically.

"Not as hurt as I was!" joked Shang. Reaching into his wallet. "She just hatched her first brood, That's why I took the year off work."

"Well, I didn't have you as the hippy finding yourself type. Finding other people was always more your style." Said Rocket, desperate to change the subject before Shang got baby photos out. He groaned, as Shang pulled a hollo projector off his wallet's key-fob.

"Oh come on man, I don't wanna see baby pictures: all baby creatures look the same; the only time a baby doesn't look like every other baby is if it's a really fucking ugly baby, so why would I look? What are you even supposed to say? Yep, that's a baby right enough? Never seen one of those before. Stars! Just break my other paw, willya?" he complained, as Shang got the projector out.

"Uggg, alright, alright! Your kids are cute!" groaned Rocket, as the holo flicked on

"that… that wasn't even a holo of my kids, that's a pic I snapped of my last assassination. Did you even look?"

"Not as such. And dude, why the pics? Always with the pictures, you sick fuck? I don't know what worse, the pictures, or the cutting of hands or feet for trophies phase you went through."

"Hey, firstly, those weren't trophies: I use an anti-matter gun. It disintegrates targets. I had to chop something off first otherwise the relatives won't have anything to burry. That was always the problem with you Rocket, you've no respect for the grieving relatives, if you want them to have closure, you've got to leave some of the body behind for them to mourn over. That's why unlike you I preferred assassinations over bag-and-recover bounty jobs. Assassination is cleaner: we both know that some of the people we brought back to Mister Knife alive just…. Disappeared. I'm not the monster here, Roc'. And secondly this was an important political assassination, it's important to record it for prosperity: in the future, historians will find my records of these killings an invaluable historical an anthropological recourse for study."

"And the dog-ears selfie filter on the corpses?" asked Quill.

"Me and Krom were messing around on the trip there and I forgot to turn that filter off. But still, invaluable historical resource! Ah here we go…" said the wasp, finding the right holo after a few moments of flicking through dozens of photo's of killings.

"Now, aren't they just the cutest?" he purred, leaning in with the projector.

Rocker sighed, ears drooping.

"They're very cute." He said, flatty and despondently. Shang made a contented buzzing noise with his wings, and turned the projector to Quill.

Quill starred. The image showed literally thousands or writhing foot-long maggots, in full colour high res 3D, and Shang and what he could only assume was his wife standing in the middle of them, knee deep like the galley's ickiest ball-pool, hugging and giving the holocamera a contented thumbs up.

"Oh, yeah: they have your eyes and everything." Said Quill sarcastically.

Shang snorted jovially, "Don't they just?" and Rocket frowned.

"So what, you're officially, like, the living dead now?"

"Yep. Even spent some time with the whole wearing the shroud-at-all-times thing, but, eh, it was kind of impractical. You can go too far with tradition, I feel. I only pull it out on special occasions now, you know?" buzzed Shang.

"Huh?" asked Quill. Rocket rolled his eyes.

"He had his dick ripped off Quill. Balls and all. It takes most of their guts out along with their baby-maker. Up until these guys invented modern medicine, no male ever survived sex. So in his culture, for a male, losing your virginity is also your funeral. Big problem for their religion, when they invented surgery and antibiotics and males suddenly started surviving getting laid. They become… well I can't pronounce it, I don't have mandibles, but they have a word for it: the postscript to life would be a literal translation. The walking dead: legally, he died. Which is why all high-risk jobs or illegal jobs or any sort of criminality in his culture is done by guys after they pop their cherry: because they are legally already dead, the law can't touch them.

"ohhh." Said Quill, full of understanding. "and that's when he became a hit-man, right?"

Rocket and Shang shared a look.

"No, weren't you paying attention, ya' frickin' dummy? This happed recently, and he's been a hit man for decades: he's always been a hit man, with a small side-line in kidnap and torture, but, heh, that's perfectly legal in his culture. It's a respectable, almost religious job." Said Rocket

"What?" asked Quill. Shang-lo-pan explained.

"Our culture is run by banker-monks. Religion and the legal system and finance all got sort of tangled up, it happens. It's based on the idea that good deeds are acts of merit, that help get you a better reincarnation. Help an elderly stranger, that's an act of merit, feed the hungry, that's a merit. The more merits you get the better your re-incarnation. An then, inevitably, people started writing down how many merits they had, and then swapping them for goods and services. It became a de-facto religious currency, like in you Terran Christian religious parable of the the money-changers at the temple."

"The what?" asked Quill.

Shang-lo-pang stared. "The bit where Jesus goes apeshit and beats the moneychangers with a whip." He stared some more. "You planet's most popular religious figure had some epic anti-capitalist destruction derby, attacks people with a bullwhip, and you don't remember it?"

"No. wait, how did Sunday school miss that bit? That sounds awesome!" said Quill. "Why don't we get more angry Indiana Jones Jesus?" Shang ignored this.

"Anyway, we started using merits as a currency, banked by the monasteries who kept track of it all: you can trade merits for goods and services in life, and whatever your balance upon your death, you get one spin of the big prayer-wheels for each merit you're in credit, which apparently help you get a good reincarnation, and is indirectly why we invented nuclear weapons so quickly as a civilisation."

Drax, Quill and Rocket stared blankly.

"Well, once your first billionaire dies and you have to spin the damn wheel that many times, the physical challenges give you a good understanding of high speed centrifuges. Gaseous Uranium enrichment was the next logical step, although apparently that counted as a de-merit. Anyway, you ern, transfer and spend merits and the monks keep track. Some people become professional do-gooders, and then the rest of society farms them out and re-distributes their merits to keep up a constant stream of new currency. Once we'd got computerized banking and smart-com sets that could track people's good deeds, it became basically self-organising and self-perpetuating. And because merits represent both your fiscal standing and the future prospects for your immortal soul, losing merits is a big deal. So our system of justice became compensatory rather than penal: rather than face a punishment for a crime, you face a fine on your merits.

"Now, that works pretty well, generally. Someone does something that aggrieves you, you go to the monk with your complaint, they summon the accused to give their side of the story, they look at the evidence, hire forensic teams and subpoena witnesses if needed, look at the legal president and then make a ruling, majority ruling of nine monks. If you're found guilty, you pay suitable compensation to the victim. If the charges brought against you are ruled to be false, the accuser pays the accused the equivalent fine for whatever crime they were alleging happened, and if neither side is at fault the monks just order both parties to take conflict resolution classes."

"Wait, what about murder? How can you get compensation if you're dead?"

Shang twitched his mandibles, sinisterly.

"That's where it gets really fun! Your family and loved ones are offered the compensation. If they don't take it, because they refuse or the victim has no family, or if the murderer isn't rich enough to pay the mandated compensation, their assets don't go to the family, they get handed over to one of the Reckoning Guilds."

"Like you represent." Said Rocket with some sneer.

"Like I represent." Said the insectoid, calmly. "Seeking vengeance is a de-merit, it earns you a serious fine. It's bad karma. But, if you've been paralysed in an accident, maimed or disfigured by someone else's carelessness, assaulted, raped, or had a loved one murdered, it's natural to want pay back. So if the court rules that yes, somebody is to blame, you have a choice: you can take the merits offered, forgive the wrongdoer, and go into the next life with a ton or merits for a good re-incarnation, or you can anonymously waive the compensation, and let the Reckoners pick up the tab. They'll take the compensation cash, and in return beat, disfigure or assassinate the wrongdoer for you. And it's all legal, and because you're not doing it yourself, nor paying them directly, so it's no stain on your immortal soul. You want to get even more than you want compensation, that's where we come in. "

"Course, there's never quite enough vengeful grieving relatives to keep you in full time work, so it's more a side-line. Many of us moonlight as bounty-hunters, like me, because the skills are transferable. But even more hold down steady, regular jobs. Teachers, bankers, merit-farmers. You never know who might be a Reckoner, which is why committing a major felony on our world is so scary. Your money vanishes from your account and you don't know if the victim kept it for themselves, or if the guy next to you on the bus has been paid to kill you messily. And you're left not-knowing for the rest of your life… one way or the other." Said Shang-lo-pan, eyes glinting sinisterly as he took another drag.

"See! You're learning! Anthropology is fun!" he said, kneeling down and playfully punching Quill on the shoulder. "Whose culture shall we learn about next?" he asked.

"Foul assassin, release me from these bonds this instant or I shall cut off you wicked head and paint my body with your still warm blood!" shouted Drax.

Everyone in the room stared.

"Oh Cool, well that sounds like a really neat little ritual!" said Shang, hurrying over and getting out a holo camera. "Please, tell me more about this, this sounds cool as heck! So, what's the cultural significance of that act? And please, remember to speak into the camera: were recording this for prosperity, you know!" he said, cheerful and eager as outside, Knowhere erupted into gunfire

Nebula cursed inventively, as she re-wired the control circuits of a mining pod for autopilot while the bot and the dammed Kree sniper covered her. There was no way to possible get out of here without being shot to pieces by the Nova-corp: their ships were lust too powerful and with their sensor bank they'd spot any attempted break-out in seconds.

If they were looking in the right place, that was.

"Are we clear as to your instructions?" she growled at combat bot C-137.

The featureless cylinder of silvery metal blooped and chirped an affirmative. Nebula frowned.

"Good, wait for my signal." She said, as C-137 magnetically clamped itself to the hull of the mining pod. She turned to Ko'star as the mining pod took off, and he nodded, as she slipped inside of and identical pod and, shutting the door, activated the com while Ko'star started to shake and rattle the pod.

"Centurion? We have an incoming transition sir."

"Source?" asked the centurion, sitting up on his chair at the centre of the flagships bridge.

"Going by the signal, looks like a mining pod…. And we have a pod on sensors, heading directly for us sir!"

"Answer the hail." Said the centurion, glancing to the big holo-projector at the front of the bridge.

The projector flicked on, showing an extreme close up of Nebula, scowling at the imager as the pod she was in bounced and bucked around. Clearly she was experiencing some sort of turbulence leaving Knowhere's atmosphere, he thought.

"Nebula Ben Titian, we have had reports that you are attempting to kidnap individuals from Knowhere and have used force to break and enter property with the intent of carrying out such a kidnapping. In addition to this, you are wanted for question with regard to your role in Ronan's attack on Xandar City, and may yet face charges under the Defence of the Realm of Xandar act, latest revision. You are currently in unincorporated territory under which the Nova corp. has no jurisdiction, to wit, Knowhere. However if you leave this area you will be arrested and bound by law, do you understand?"

Nebula glared, trying to ignore Ko'star's grunting and swearing as he rocked the mining pod back and forth to make it look like it was flying to anyone watching on the feed.

"Affirmative. I tire of this pursuit, and I am handing myself in. I have an injured hostage, the Terran, Starprince. Prepare to receive casualties." She said, completely honestly, glancing to one side, and watching the dot that was the mining pod approach the Nova fleet, the combat bot glittering in the starlight.

"Affirmative," said the Nova commander, turning to his aide-de-camp. "Denarian, prep a med team, hanger one." He said, turning back to the screen, and starting his spiel.

"You have the right not to communicate anything, but it will harm your case if you rely in legal proceedings on that which you did not mention in questioning. You have the right to a translator if you struggle with communication. You have the right to legal representation, which will be provided by the Nova corp. You have the right to be housed in an atmosphere, gravity, and temperature comfortable for your species, you have the right to-"

The unmanned mining pod docked with the ship, and bot C-137 detached from it and floated up, towards the flagship's main scanner and communications nodule. Watching the Nova commander, Nebula could see the exact moment when he realised something had gone wrong.

"-not to have you Figgun toasted. You have the right to express your religion within reason, although that would be an Ecumenical matter, you have the right to not more than five- hey, what, what the fu-"

At this distance she couldn't exactly see what it was than C-137 did to the communications array, but a moment later the debris of the communications and scanner pod exploded out like metallic confetti, wiping out their scanners and filling the very centre of the Nova fleet's patrol area with a cluster of chaff what would make locating a specific ship almost imposable.

Nebula grinned, very slightly.

"Good, come on: let's get those morons on the the barracuda and out of here so we can leverage my sister before she manages to do anything rash like-"

There was a powerful white flash from the direction of the Hydroponics station they'd locked the guardians in, the distinctive flare of an anti-matter weapon discharging, three times in close succession.

Nebula and Ko'Star shared a look for a moment, and then jogged off towards the shooting.

Shang-lo-Pan Azulon stared with horror for a long moment.

"So, wait. The whole you want to kill me and paint yourself with my blood thing doesn't have any cultural significance to you? You just made it up on the spur of the moment? It's not a cool meaningful symbolic tradition?"

"No, but seeing you die in such a manner would give me great satisfaction, foul insectoid villain!" said Drax.

Shang-lo-Pan Azulon stood there for a long time. The air vent squeaked.

"Well that's just unsettling." he said eventually.

"Yeah, some people are just sick fucks." Said Rocket, trying pretty openly to slip his other paw out of the pillory. "I mean, terran's put sticks up each other's butts, some people are just plain gross." Muttered the Racoon, managing to get both back feet onto the back of the pillory and pushing and grunting, to no avail. Their captors ignored him, they all knew he wasn't getting out of there that way.

"Due, that's just a metaphor!" said Quill, from floor level, glancing sideways briefly. There was a lot of junk on the floor of the hydroponics station, and a snip of gardening wire about an inch long was so close to his face he could practically taste it.

if only I could reach that. He thought, shooting Rocket a quick glance. The racoon nodded.

"Like a finger to the throat means death?" asked Drax. Shang and Krom shared a confused look.

Quill sighed, inhaling deeply. "Look, can some at least put my Pillory the right way up again? I think all the blood is rushing to my head!" he muttered, voice somewhat muffled.

Shang seemed to consider this for some time.

"I don't see why not." he said, tapping the fallen pillory once. It jolted back upright on it's own, so suddenly that Quill nearly swallowed in shock.

Which given I just sucked a wire off the floor mid-sigh would be a very bad thing. He thought, tucking the wire into his cheek. Rocket nodded approvingly.

"Gahhh! You just levitated the stock, how did you do that? Are you a wizard?" asked Quill, surprised. The wasp chuckled, and waved his wrist in Quill's direction, while Drax corrected Quill, stating that it was a pillory and not the stocks.

"Personal Gravitonium manipulator." Said Shang. "Lets me determine which way counts as down. Alter gravity fields at a touch. Useful in zero gravity, and for other things."

"Oh." Said Quill. "I thought that it was just a really ugly Rolex. So, Mr game-n-watch, what's it do? Like, let you fly? Of can you do that anyway?"

"His wings are vestigial, but yeah, he can fly with that thing." Muttered Rocket, glaring "I could really fix up the lift-belts if I had one of those things…"

"Actually, technically its more falling with style, but yes, a useful tool. Hey, Rocket remember that reverse defenestration at Saprtori-secundus?"

Rocket, despite himself, grinned. "Where you tapped the senator on the shoulder and said excuse me sir? And he fell upwards forty stories, through the armour-crys, and into his high security hotel suite? Hell, best frickin' assassination I ever saw. They had to scrape that sucker of the ceiling with a squeegee! I was impressed, and given I was there to bring the guy in alive, that's saying something." Rocket squinted briefly, keeping his face friendly and his smile fixed as he considered ways to distract Shang for long enough for Quill to slip him the wire and pick the lock.

I mean this guy is a lot sharper than anyone I'd want guarding me. Shoot, I mean this guy was pretty much and expert in staking out and finding ways into places for assassinations. Good at it too, because he was always a little paranoid about that himself…

Ah.

"I mean Groot, you remember that time at Kar-vor'gen when-" started Rocket, innocently, and when Shang looked to Groot, Rocket mouthed she's here to Quill and glanced at the air-vent in the ceiling for a split second.

Shang, compound eyes giving him nearly 270 degree vison, froze up, and glanced to the vent too, before looking back and forth between Quill and Rocket several times suspiciously.

Kar-vor'gen, when you stuffed me into that damn heating duct to get past the gleet biofilters and disable the security so you could get in. You're paranoid by nature, because all long-time assassins are either paranoid or dead, I bring up that old job and subliminally plant it in your mind, and then look to the vents here, which are creaky as fuck anyway…

Shang looked from Quill, to Rocket, to the air-vent to Rocket again. Both Quill and Rocket stared back blankly, with expressions of studied innocence, Rocket looking almost exactly like the hang on in there poster.

The fan in the air vent squeaked.

Shang-lo-pan Azulon drew his anti-matter pistol with blinding speed, and fired three times into to the three nearest vents, blowing huge molten-edged holes into the walls as the microscopic pellets sublimated into pure energy, chittering and cursing, spiracles clicking and wings rattling against his chitin. After a few more moments of frantic yelling and shooting, he stopped, panting, and his translator circuit finally caught up with his angered screeching.

"Oh Darn." He said cheerfully, pistol raised cautiously. Then, because the god's he didn't believe in were clearly smiling on Rocket right then, a creature, some sort of insect or similar, scurried down the vents. Shang visibly twitched, trying to zero in on the source of the sound.

"Excuse me. I'm just going to check on something quickly. Krom, if you would be so kind as to watch our guests for a moment…." Said the wasp, stalking out to the doorway and ripping it open, gun ready. "Oh and Krom, when Rocket springs whatever he's planning, do try not to break him: we're meant to be keeping them alive insofar as possible, and the reward Mr Knife is offering for Rocket alive is mind-bogglingly obscene." Said Shang, vanishing out the door.

"Wait, he's left guarding us?" asked Quill. "Why do you need to tell him not to hurt us? Look at him, he looks 'armless enough!" joked Quill.

Krom stared.

"heh, it' s funny because he doesn't have arms." said Quill, after a moment.

Krom stared at his stumps, and after a pause Drax burst out laughing.

"Bwahahahahahaha! I get that! I got that joke! It was a most funny play on words, ahahahahahahahahaha!" he said, pointing. "he… he implied that you are unable or unwilling to do harm… but you also lack limbs! The two sound similar in Terran! Ahahaha, look at his face, he clearly does not get it, but this a very clever double meaning, the juxtaposition of the two implied but different meanings creating the humour! Ha! Ahahaha!"

Quill and Rocket shared a WFT? look of mixed horror and embarrassment at this, before realizing that they'd been so distracted by Drax's random outburst that they'd forgotten to act themselves.

Rocket made a Gimmie, gimmie gesture with his free paw while Krom was staring at Drax, and Quill nodded, moving his tongue over to get the wire centred in this mouth and out of his cheek, before realizing he couldn't spit something that lightweight accurately and, hawking up something to give him some mass to work with, he aimed, trying to hit the the board of the pillory just above Rocket's free paw so that the racoon could grab the wire.

Quill spat.

Sp-thonqu!

Rocket dangled motionless for a moment, wire embedded in the fur between his eyebrows, as clear spittle dribbled down his muzzle before turning to Quill with a slow scowl that promised painful painful revenge at some point in the near future, and then snatched up the wire while Quill stared, wide eyed with guilt.

Krom clearly sensed something was up, because he turned to glare at Rocket, but at that point he got distracted as Drax's laughter had somehow shaken his feet lose, and he pulled his legs out of the wall and then stood up, taking the heavy pillory with him and bellowed

"Freedom! Freedom and revenge!"

And then charged, smashing into Krom with a furious yell. Both huge men fell in a heap, Drax with his hands still pilloried in place and Krom with no arms at all, and so the two started rolling, kicking and biting at each other frantically as Rocket scrambled to pick the lock on his pillory.

"Oh gawds, hurry up Rocket: you're missing the cool fight!" yelled Quill, unable to take his eyes away as Krom spun on the floor and used his legs to flip himself back up, before delivering a leaping, whirring capoeira-style roundhouse kick to Drax's spine while the tattooed warrior tried to lever himself upright using the corner of the room.

"I'm hurrying! I'd like to see you pick a lock with a broken hand!" yelled Rocket, snarling and sweating nervously "Give me a hammer, mister spitball, and we'll see how well you do this!"

Drax bellowed in pain, but used his legs to shove himself into the corner of the room, and push himself upright before turning. He had just enough time to see the next roundhouse, and jinked sidewise so it hit the board of the pillory rather than his head. Roaring with laughter at the joy of battle, Drax surged forwards, tuning on his hip and spinning so he delivered a brutal smack to Krom with the flat board of the pillory, following up with two fast kicks.

Krom backed up, hopped up onto a hydroponics workbench behind him without even looking, and then leapt forward at the exact time Drax did, both delivering a brutal wild-ram headbutt to the other that sent them both staggering into the shelving by the hydroponics tanks, scattering metal seed-trays everywhere. Krom was the first to recover, whirring up, but Drax laughed off the damage, kicking tray after tray at him as he charged forwards, before slamming his foot down into one tray, and using the slick metal and his other foot to skate towards Krom, spin out of the way of the next of Krom's kicks and let Krom smash into the wall, so the two had swapped places.

Drax laughed the pure, pure joy of thrilling combat, kicked his last tray at Korms feet making him hop over it to avoid tripping, and the two of them both surged forwards again. Krom leapt up just before the two would have slammed into each other, launching a quick double scissor-kick at Drax mid-air, one at crotch and one at head height. Drax raised his shin to block the first, and then jolted sideways, swinging the Pillory hard into Krom's foot, knocking him out of the air. As Krom rolled up, Drax head-butted him before leaning in first with the left corner of the Pillory, then with the right, smacking him twice in the head with the heavy metal board like it was a yoke and roaring defiance as Krom went down under a flurry of blows.

"Woha, this is some full on Jackie Chan level shit right here." Said Quill, impressed in spite of himself. A look mom no hands, no hold's bared beat-down. Actual un-armed combat!"

"Yeah." Yellped, Rocket frantically working the lock. "and real soon Krom is going to get bored of it and pull out the big guns! He was a pit-fighter, Quill. There's no handicapped league in that sport you moron! He has arms, just as soon as he needs to!"

"What? Asked Quill, as Drax, having got Krom on the floor, ran at the wall, ran a few paces up the wall, leapt up it, and then turned like a cat mid-air, ready to being his elbow down onto Krom's windpipe with the full weight of his body and the pillory down behind it.

Quill winced, unwilling to look, and there was a loud metallic Clang!

Quill opened his eyes, confused.

The implants under the scarred skin of Krom's amputated arm-stumps glowing a bright veiny pink thought his skin as the arc-reactors fired up, and Krom held the dented seed-tray in place for a long time under Drax's elbow as Drax's eyes widened with shock, before grinning evilly and gesturing at the Pillory with a stump, sending it and Drax Flying into the ceiling, hard.

Krom Picked himself, and Quill stared.

Every seed tray in the room, the wires from the wall, the litter on the floor, the metal pressure-valve on the hydroponics tank that Groow was trapped in, every metal object in the room that wasn't part of the pillories or load bearing started to fly across the room, gathering mid-air in two clusters, hovering where each of Krom's elbows would have been if his arms hadn't been amputated just before that joint. Rocket swore, and tried to keep hold of the wire, fighting to lift the last pin in the lock as Quill just watched, aghast.

The seed trays were flexing mid-air, getting crushed and stretched out again and again, until they glowed red from tidal heating and started to melt and flow together with the rest of the trash, coalescing and forming into two shapes, the right a conventional looking but heavily muscled arm of smoking black metal, the left a heavy chain tipped in two huge spiked balls that orbited each other slowly, every link in the chain moving under perfect control coiling and uncoiling like a snake.

Quill and Drax stared at this for a long time, before they both turned to Rocket.

"He has super-conductor electro-magnets for hands! So he can fight, but never feel, that was his punishment!"

""He has super-conductor electro-magnets for hands and you're just telling us this now!? Time and a place Rocket!"

"What, you thought he had no hands at all! His name is literally the Kusher! What, did you think he fell on people? How the fuck would he get that name without hands?!"

"He could pile-driver people! Or perhaps have very strong things!" said Drax, eagerly pointing, like he was raising a legitimate point. "That would make for an interesting fight!" he said, truing and pointing to Krom "I would pay to see that, armless villain!"

Krom gestured and threw him thought a wall.

+++
Gamora and Tabby jogged down lower mandibular way, keeping her pistol covering the damn woman with her left hand and using her sword to fend of tentacles with her right. Around her, tentacles were spawning out of most every flat surface in knowhere and attacking, with predictable results. This being knowhere, predictable results equated to the Nova corp, the miners, the space-pirates, the drunks, gamblers and whores and the other ner-do-wells that lived there firing wildly into every wall, the air, the floor, and occasionally each other as trigger discipline went to hell in the sere mindless chaos of their hometown being invaded by something slightly more Lovecraftian than usual.

And given we literally live in the head of a dead elder god, that's saying something. Gamora thought, as she grimly hacked through another tentacle.

"Um… like, don't Want to stress you or anything Tamora, but I think I just saw that French astronaut dog throw a car with it's mind." Said Tabby. "I mean, no offence to her, but if this is about to go all Jean Grey Dark Arizona on us, I'm out. It's like Logan, if I can't keep track of whether or not they're dead or not week to week, that's when you've got to step back and take a good look at your life, yanno?"

"What the hell are you blithering about?" muttered Gamora, nudging Tabby forward with the pistol. "Just hurry up and show me where my sister is! And would it hurt for you to shut up and fight some of the murder tentacles?"

"Hey girl, leave me out of your problems! I'm okay with squidward, squidward is cool, he didn't drop of a building and knee me in the chest. I'm neutral in the whole aliens vs tentacles thing, okay? Oh, and you're superhero landing sucks by the way, you need to crouch more to look dramatic, not twist to the side like that!"

"I….. the twisting to the side is the approved parachuting landing, who crouches? Wouldn't that just destroy your knee cartilage?"

"Yeah, but it looks awesome and the Prof's got us pretty comprehensive medical insurance. I'm just saying, you look pretty good doing what you do, but you could do better style-wise. At the very least, you should have uniforms or something."

"Don't you start, Quill was all in favour of that. Blue with red trim would not suit my completion. And also, there are literal murder tentacles dragging innocent people off to some hellish fate, how are you so okay with this?"

"Meh, by my standards this is just a normal Tuesday." Said Tabby, as she watched a tentacle chase an old man armed with a futuristic space-thong and an auto-revolver through an alleyway.

"Okay, so maybe it's a little on the weird side." She conceded. "But compared to some of the things I've seen Zardos over there doesn't even come close to a five on my weird-shit-o-meter and- HEY!"

A tentacle shot out of a wall right at Gamora, and in the process caught Tabby around the shoulder and started grappling her.

"Hey Squidward, bad-touch man, lettgo. Hey, dude, less Evil Dead here and….AHHHHHHH! I'm on your side you moron!" she yelled.

Gamora half turned, trying to keep track as Tabby was suddenly pulled to one side. Gamora leapt up brandishing the sword, but another tentacle took advantage of the distraction and grabbed her foot, forcing her to hack through it as Tabby was dragged off towards the nearest portal, one that had formed in the nearest wall.

"Ahhhhh! Squidward, not cool man I was on your side bro!" yield Tabby, getting a palm flat on the wall next to the portal and using it to lever herself away from the portal, which had grown teeth for some reason. "Dude, let go of me and have a tic-tack in that order, because you have tentacle breath!" She glowered. "I mean it man, if you don't let go of me in five-"

A second portal appeared directly below the first one, and a new tentacle grabbed her leg.

And Tabby lost it.

Gamora saw Tabby grimace and summon an ball of plasma the size of small child, and had just enough time to close her eyes and turn her head sideways before Meltdown yelled "Tick-tick Boom motherfucker!" and thrust it into the portal.

There was a blinding flash of light, so bright that Gamora could see the pattern of veins in her eyelids as everything went green and there was a nose best described as Ker-sploosh!

Gamora opened her eyes.

She, Tabby, and about half of the population of knowhere were covered in a violently purple evil-smelling goo, as bits of tentacles, goat blood and ichor poured out of every portal. Tabby, propelling herself off the ground by shooting a jet of concussive plasma out of each palm, hovered for a moment, before twisting her wrists and sending herself floating backwards over to where Gamora was, and lowering herself to the ground.

Tabby turned to Gamora. She had a chunk of tentacle complete with suction cup stuck to her forehead, and looked pissed as hell.

"I fucking hate tentacles." She declared. Gamora nodded, and then gestured with her sword.

A fresh wave of tentacles was growing out of portals, all across Knowhere.

The two women stared. Tabby's music played.

Bananarama: Cruel summer

"Where was this hydroponics station you've got my crew stashed again?" asked Gamora.

"Over that way, about half a mile." Said Tabby, shooting the nearest new portal with a fireball, before glanced over to Gamora. "You'll not make it on foot."

"No." agreed Gamora ducking into an alleyway, and returning with a large bag of explosives and Rocket's prototype arero-harness. "So let's fly: oh, and keep and eye out for Cosmo: one way or another, I'm guessing we could do with some hard-hitting backup." She said, bucking on the harness, and checking her RCS vents.

She nodded to Tabby. Tabby nodded back, and the two of them took a run-up and launched themselves into the air.

All I need to do now is make it to Quill and the others before they manage to get themselves into more trouble. She thought, taking clumsily to the sky.

Quill stared at the Drax-shaped hole in the ceiling for a moment, before Drax crashed back down again covered in cobwebs and plaster-dust. Drax roared, and ran forwards again, still bound by the Pillory. This time rather than use the magnets to throw him, Krom just grunted and swung his chain-arm, smacking the spiked balls into the side of the pillory board and knocking Drax sideways into the shelving next to Groot's tank, gouging a track into the metal. Quill winced as a second swing of the deadly flail narrowly missed Drax's head.

There was a click to one side of him, and Quill looked over.

Wincing and rotating his injured wrist, Rocket dropped to the floor, and immediately ran towards and grabbed a long sherd of razor-sharp glass from one of the broken hydroponics tanks, giving himself an non-metallic weapon. Quill nodded, and Rocket, improvised knife in mouth, scurried over to the corner and shot up the wall climbing with all fours, and vanishing into the mess of shelving covering the wall.

Quill turned back to Drax. Krom was pointing his metallic arm at him, holding the pillory dead-still while he lined up a shot at Drax's unprotected head with the chain like it was a dartboard. Quill's eyes went wide: a hit like that would kill him for sure!

"Frickin' Dieeeeeeeeee!" yelled a chittering, yowling voice, and Rocket, snarling with drool and foam at the corners of his mouth for exertion, glass dagger in paw, dived off the topmost shelf behind Krom, tail out behind him like a streamer and aimed like a little furry missile right at Krom's carotid artery.

Krom glanced upwards, and Rocket stopped mid-air so suddenly that Quill could see his eyes role back on his head, drool fly out of his moth as it kept moving, and his tail an all the fur on his body keep moving a fraction of a second longer than he did before it snapped back, making him jerk and wobble like a jelly. The glass dagger shattered on the ground a foot to the left of Krom's foot.

Rocket groaned with pain, and pawed at the metallic implants at his collar-bones, which were bleeding where his metal-reinforced skeleton had stopped moving but his soft tissue hadn't.

The raccoon coughed blood. "Oh god, I hate being a cyborg at times." He said.

"Tell me about it." Muttered Krom "but it could be worse: one of your co-workers could steel your protetics while your drunk, hey Rocket?" Groweld the pit-fighter.

"Hey man, that was funny, and it was like two years ago, don't tell me you're still sore about that and… and… Oh, No! No! nonononononononononono….." yelled the racoon, waving both arms like he was trying to ward something off, before Krom made and over-arm throwing gesture from Rocket to Drax.

Quill winced, and had to look away as Krom used Rocket like a furry bludgeon to repeatedly beat Drax around the head until the two of them were both bloodied, and groaning, semi-conscious. Krom did, however, stop short of killing either of them, and instead slumped over the Quill, spitting blood from where Drax had broken his nose.

"You try to escape again, and I kill one of them. Understood?"

Quill winced. "Yeah, yeah got that." Krom growled, an leaned in, so his bruised face was only inches from Quill's.

"The big man fought me. He lost. The Furred one fought me. He lost. You you want to try me, Starlord?" growled Krom.

Quill looked own, dejected.

And then looked up, grinned and said. "Me, nah I'll pass… but I'm not the only guardian left in the room." He said, and then nodded sideways.

Krom followed his gaze, and his eyes went wide.

In his haste to get as much metal as possible to make his arms, Krom had pulled the metal valve out of Groot's Hydroponic tank, leaving a tiny, perhaps centimetre wide hole in the glass.

There was now a very long whipcord tendril growing out of it in his direction. Krom felt something, and looked down.

Groot picked him up by his leg and slammed him into the ceiling and floor repeatedly while the man screamed and in-effectively lobbed metal at the bullet-prof hydroponics tank until Groot slammed him into a wall, hard, knocking him out. The tendril then crept over to Quill's pillory, into the lock, and turned once, unlocking it.

"Thanks dude!" said Quill, rushing over to Rocket and Drax and checking them over.

"You dudes alive?"

"Peter Quill, I am alive. And once more in your debt. If ever you need a witty come back or a spine ripped out-"

"Cool, good to see you to Drax. Rocket?"

"Uggggg….. I'll have the velociraptor parm hero. And put the cheese on, then the red sauce, I don't want soggy bread."

"What?"

"What?" muttered the Racoon, groggily, as Quill put a hand on his back and eased him up into a sitting position and, noticing Krom's discarded military issue canteen, offered the Racoon some water.

"You okay little guy?" he said, as Rocket, gargles, spat water red with blood, an then drunk greedily.

"Me? Peachy." He said, sounding a little confused. "And by that I mean I burse easily."

"And you're covered with fur. You okay?"

"I'll live. God, did I just try and fight Krom? Remind me not to do that again any time soon."

"Will do." Said Quill, standing and offering Rocket a hand up. "still, we beat him."

"yeah, so now to get the hell out of here while the getting out of here is frickin' good!" said Rocket.

"Yeah." Said Quill, setting his jaw grimly. "But first, I've got some urgent business to take care of." In his best badass voice. Rocket looked up, and grinned.

"Oh, yeaaaaah!" he said, in tones of dawning realisation.

*cut to a wide shot of Quill and Rocket waiting outside of a closed door, with "Staff bathroom" writer above it in Xandarian, Peter tapping his foot impatiently, an Rocket Cross-legged and hopping about with discomfort. *

" Come on Drax, hurry up!" yelled Quill, banging on the door. "I feel like I've been in those damn stocks since August and I need to pee!"

"Pillory's" corrected Rocket, hopping back and forth behind Quill, before giving up, and aiming himself into the wall and fumbling with his fly, cursing when he realised he couldn't open it with his busted paw.

"Ummm, little help Quill?"

"Gross, no! Hurry up Drax!"

"I can't go with you banging on the door! It is most discomforting!" yelled Drax, from behind the door. "Go away, the idea of you listening is off-putting!"

"I…. you're a big badass warrior and you can't go if we're listening?"

"Quiet!" yelled Drax. There was a momentary pause, and then the sound of taps running.

"Are you shitting me!" yelled Rocket! "Are you washing you frickin' hands?"

"I always wash before and after I go, yes. And you wash your hands several times per hour, tiny mammal!"

Quill groaned, and looked down to Rocket doing his little cross legged tiny bladder dance.

Reluctantly, Quill joined Rocket facing the wall, and started to fumble for his fly.

"Quill! My hand's busted, help a buddy out!"

"Fine."

Ziiip!

Wide shot of corridor, Rocket and Quill with their backs to the camera, looking down.

"Ahem."

Rocket and Quill freeze up, look to each other, Rocket looking up and right and Quill looking down and left, and the two of them look over their shoulders, mirror-imaging each other.

Shang-lo-pan Azulon had clearly been crawling thought the air-duct's, if the sheer number of cobwebs and the amount of dust and grime on him were any indicator. But far more importantly, he had Groot in a headlock and was pressing the barrel of his anti-matter pistol to his head. Insofar has his insect face held any expression, he looked pissed off, but more than that disappointed and confused.

"Did you guys actually forget I was literally right outside?" he asked, like a teacher with a disappointing slow pupil. "I mean, I was right outside the building."

Rocket and Quill looked to each other again.

"Dude, I thought you were going to go and shoot him!"

"Me, you're the frickin' captian, I thought you were going to go shoot him!"

"No, you said you'd do it. I told you…. Drax, didn't I tell him!"

"I can't go with you listening! But you did tell him!"

"Really? oh, shit… sorry. In my defence, I had just been used as a frickin' bludgeon when you said that: I think I might actually have concussion." Said Rocket, guiltily.

" You need to get that looked at! It can be quite serous!" yelled Drax.

"He's right you know, it's a serious condition." said Shang. "But for right now, I want you to put your hands were I can see them, and turn to face me."

"Dude, right now?" asked Quill. "Can I at least zip up first?"

Shang seemed to consider this. "Well, I really don't want to clean up after a bunch of leaking mammals, so I suppose I should let you use the toilet first-"

Drax booted the door open, toilet held above his head, and threw it two-handed at Shang yelling "A-ha!" and missing the wasp's head by about two foot.

The guardian's stared at Shang. He stared back.

"Or at least let me pee in the sink?" asked Rocket, pleadingly. "For old time's sakes Shang?"

The sink was the next thing Drax ripped of the wall and threw at Shang. The insectoid assassin leaned out of its path and stroked it with a finger as he did so, activating his gravity-watch. The sink stopped mid-air, and then fell back into Drax's head with a boing! sound, knocking him on his arse.

"Right, I've had enough of trying to be nice. Back in the pillories everyone, or I'll cut your feet off." Said Shang, cheerfully forcing Groot into the tank at gun point and melting the hole in the tank shut with a thin jet of energy from his gun as behind him, Krom woke up and pushed himself groaning out from the pile of seed-trays in the corner. Quill and Rocket groaned, but with Shang covering Groot neither of them wanted to make a move, and so they dragged the semi-conscious Drax back to his pillory and locked him in it. Quill was next, Shang using his gravity manipulator to casually flip Quill back onto his face once he was locked in. Rocket was last.

Shang checked the lock three times, and then sighed.

"You are far too good a locksmith for your own good you know Roc'?" he said jovially, pulling a long metal wand that looked almost like a water-sprayer to Quill out of his tool-belt.

Rocket glared. "Hey, is that my Sladon? The one you stole on Badoon prime?"

"Borrowed, you lent it to me." Said Shang, pointing it at the seam between the two halves of the pillory. The metal begun to fuse into one seamless chunk wherever he pointed it.

"Well, evidently you never gave it back, so yeah, borrowing and not returning in the agreed time frame kinda equates to theft, don't it?" said the racoon.

"Interesting point. Do you still have those prosthetic arms you stole of Krom?"

"Eh… I may have sold them…."

Shang looked from Rocket to Krom. "How much to you think two freshly ripped-off furred arms would fetch? Assuming the right buyer?"

"Only one way to find out…." Rumbled Krom. Shang, finished welding Rocket into the Pillory, and held up a claw to forestall him.

"No, the reward for him intact is too big. Besides, we have company." He said, nodding towards the doors, as Nebula and the Kree sniper burst in.

"The Nova fleet is crippled, we have a narrow window of escape. Move the hostages onto my ship and…. what happened here?" she said, noting the wrecked seed shelves, Quill fallen pillory, the broken patch of wall, and Drax and Krom's identical black eyes.

"Slight issue with the prisoners, under control now." Said Shang cheerfully, tapping Rocket on the nose with the Sladon and eliciting a pained yelp as it scorched a patch of fur on his muzzle.

"Yea-ouch? Seriously?"

"Shut the fox up!" yelled Nebula.

"Wait, did you say shut the fuck up, or shut the fox up?" asked Quill. "He's clearly a racoon, how the hell do people keep mistaking him for other earth mammals? If you know what a fox is then surely knowing what a racoon is isn't that much of a stretch?"

"Stop calling me a racoon, I don't know what that means! I don't call you a frickin' layabout or wastrel or use big words you don't know! it's unfair and discriminatory and-"

" Shut UP!Shut up or I'll tranquilise you all!" Nebula screamed and then turned to Shang and glowered. "You're supposed to be one of the best assassins in the galaxy, and you can't control a few prisoners whom are trapped in stocks? What's wrong with you?"

"Pillories, and there are multiple theories as to what's wrong with me, probably a congenital failure to produce enough Oxytocin." said Shag, cheerfully. "However, while I'll admit this hasn't been my finest hour, it still could be a whole lot worse." he said, lighting a deathsticks with his weak secondary arms and then pointing with his main arms as he took a drag.

Nebula turned to look.

Out of the open doorway, behind the guardians so that they couldn't see, there was a clear view across Knowhere.

Specifically, in the middle distance there was a clear view of the main drag, and the remaining Nova peace-keepers and a very heavily armed angry mob moved towards them, fighting tentacles as they went.

Nebula swore loudly, and gestured to Shang to start levitating the pillories with the watch.

"On the ship! We'll see how keen to fight Gamora is once we've got her precious crew off-world. Master Sargent, hold off the mob while we load the hostages onto the Barracuda and then-"

There was a loud explosion behind her, and nebula turned. She stared for a long moment.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

Rising out of the explosion just behind the angry mob, was what looked like two women and a dog battling tentacles mid-air as they cut a direct path thought the portals towards the hydroponics centre.