A/N: Yas, chapter 9. I've been waiting for so long for y'all to get here, for one humorous reason, and one not-so-humorous reason. Enjoy!


"Of course they came here," Rocket muttered as he parked the Milano in orbit, glancing at his own greasy, disheveled clothes, shirtless Drax, and naked Groot. "It's a fashion planet, full of people covered in sparkle and wearing shoes that cost more than this ship. We're gonna stick out like sore thumbs."

"I am Groot?" Groot suggested.

"No, we can't borrow the others' clothes!" Rocket exclaimed. "We're too tiny and Drax is too big. And that's just weird. 'Hey, we rescued you by dressing as you.' I ain't tellin' 'em that!"

"I am Groot!"

"No, I don't care that we wouldn't actually have to tell them that. They would notice!"

"We will just have to move around behind the stores," Drax said. "We have done this before. It will be fine."

Rocket still grumbled all the way down to the surface. They could not screw this up. If they lost Kutral here, and she realized they had tracked her somehow, they would lose their only advantage. They would lose their only source of information as to who purchased the others.

The shopping district glittered in the midday sunlight, the light reflecting off of glassy storefronts, glittering window displays, and the gaudy jewelry and glittery makeup adorned by the mass of customers. Heels clacked against the tiled walkways, children running rampant amongst the sea of people.

"We can't afford to get caught up in a public fight," Rocket murmured. They hid in a thin alleyway between two of the largest shops, shadowed by the buildings' height. "Too much collateral."

Drax nodded. "Do you believe the women are staying here?"

Rocket checked the tracking data. "They did spend some time in the hotel district," he said. "It's possible."

"Then we should bide our time until they retire for the night. We can trap them in their hotel room."

"Great," Rocket muttered as they backed up, seeking a more long-term hideout. "More waiting. My favorite thing."

-MCU-

Gamora leaned back against the wall, taking some time to rest after finishing her food. Mantis curled up against her, dozing for the last half hour, head pillowed on Gamora's shoulder. She rubbed the younger Guardian's arm gently. She stirred with a yawn, stretching, one hand fluttering to her torso as if checking for injuries.

"You good?" Gamora asked.

Mantis nodded. "I was connected to Loki long enough for the line between our consciousnesses to blur."

"You looked terrified when Beb was threatening him," Gamora murmured.

"I was, yes," she said. "Terrified for him. But his terror…" She hugged herself, shuddering. "His is a bone-deep terror. It is not the kind that goes away, no matter what happens or what he does. It will always be there, lingering, like a shadow tainting everything he does. Tainting everyone he loves."

Gamora ducked her head with a tiny wry smile. "This has a point, doesn't it?"

Mantis dipped her head. "I believe that is what I sensed during his panic attack, that something I could not identify at the time. It was faded then, buried somewhat by the years between, but the core of the emotion was the same."

"So he's not scared of me?"

"Not exactly," Mantis said. "It… it would probably be best for him to explain in his own words. But until he can, I will say that he is scared of you in the same way he is scared of Thor."

Gamora furrowed her brows in confusion. "He is scared of Thor?"

Mantis bit her lip. "Perhaps 'of' is not the right word. Or at least, not of Thor. He is… he is scared of doing something that would require Thor to hurt him again."

"So he's scared of his past. Of himself," Gamora surmised.

Mantis nodded slowly. "That sounds correct."

"That, I can understand," she said, lifting her gaze to look at Loki. He was asleep, curled up next to Peter, the two men not quite touching, but close enough that Loki was evidently sheltering next to Peter. "Well, something changed over there."

Mantis smiled. "He is trusting us."

"Good," Gamora said, casting a glare at the two guards in the corridor outside their cell. "Because I want to fight."

-MCU-

In the end, their best hiding spot had been a public restroom. Drax sat on the toilet lid, Groot in his lap and Rocket on his shoulders. There was arguing, a lot of it, and plenty of people wondering who the hell was taking so long to go, but at least it was a decently clean room. When dusk rolled around, they bailed in a heartbeat, albeit moving a bit stiffly as they ran for open spaces and fresh air.

They made their way to the hotel Kutral was at, sneaking through alleys and clinging to the shadows outside of street lamps. Rocket picked the lock on the service entrance, silencing the alarm rapidly after they slipped in without a keycard. Then they climbed up the stairs twenty floors, finally emerging into a hallway. Rocket almost felt guilty about daring to step on the carpet, decorated with intricate spirals of a rainbow of colors, white walls rising up around them, meeting a mirrored ceiling.

"Who is conceited enough to need a mirrored ceiling?" Drax wondered in a whisper that really wasn't a whisper.

"Idiots like Peter and Loki. Now shush," Rocket retorted, turning to the right. Groot smiled at a couple of guests that passed them, edging as far to the other side of the hall as they could get, the woman clutching at her purse. "Rude," Rocket muttered.

"You would have taken it under different circumstances," Drax pointed out.

"…True. Still."

He stopped outside of a corner room. "They must've gotten paid nicely if they got such an ideal room on such short notice," Rocket observed. He pressed his ear to the door, listening. Above him, Drax and Groot did the same.

"You were going to leave me on that moon with that stupid cat!" one woman snapped.

"Erebu, I knew you were fine!"

"Did you? Or were you just saving your fashionista skin?"

"Ere, sweetheart-"

"We were supposed to be friends, Kutral!"

"Hey, I got us the money, didn't I?"

"No, you got you the money. Am I just chopped liver to you?"

"And what if you are?" Kutral snapped.

One woman roared. Crashing sounds ensued, followed quickly by punching. Rocket grabbed Groot's arm and tugged them both to the side. Drax slammed one foot into the door, sending it crashing down. He charged inside, Rocket and Groot on his tail.

The hallway's gaudy carpet thankfully didn't extend in here, replaced by a deep blue. Unfortunately, the white walls and mirrored ceiling were also featured in here. Immediately to his left was what Rocket assumed was a bathroom, the door shut; to his right was a closet, already filled with clothes in Kutral's size. Beyond the bathroom was a pair of twin-sized beds, their silver silk sheets ruffled, the TV across from them turned to some news channel. Beside the TV stand was a dresser and a desk. Beside the beds was a grey couch in front of a glass coffee table.

The coffee table was shattered. In the middle, Kutral lay on her back, face and arms cut up and bleeding. Erebu pinned her down, straddling her, fists around Kutral's throat. Kutral hammered at Erebu, her fists a blur as she threw all her power and speed into the blows, but the larger woman hardly budged. Kutral's blows weakened with every hit.

Drax lunged forward, tackling Erebu around the waist. They tumbled to the ground, Erebu elbowing at him, rage smoldering in her expression. Drax avoided most of the blows, grabbing at her arms. He hooked her legs around hers, until they were locked together in a very awkward position, both people struggling against the other.

"Tie up Kutral," Drax grunted. "I can hold her."

Rocket hastened to obey, slipping his pack off his back. Groot jumped on the bleeding, coughing woman as she tried to stand, trying to hold her down. She lashed out with a snarl, snapping one of Groot's fingers. He yelped in indignant pain.

"Hey!" Rocket growled, pulling two pairs of cuffs from the pack. Dropping one, he grabbed for her wrists. With Groot helping to hold her, he managed to shut a cuff around first one, then the other.

Immediately, she started kicking. Rocket grabbed the second pair and snapped them shut around her ankles. She struggled further, but cuffs were one thing Rocket didn't skimp on – they were expensive, and for good reason.

With a grunt of effort, Erebu broke free of Drax's grip. She punched his face, leaving him stunned, and started to run for the door. Rocket and Groot grabbed for her legs, but she dodged, evidently more nimble than she looked, knocking both of them aside as she ran for freedom. Rocket reached for his stunner, scrambling to get into position to fire.

He never got the chance to shoot.

The moment Erebu hit the hallway, vivid blue electricity shot into her side. She stiffened, falling like a log, writhing for a few moments before finally going still. Rocket tensed, aiming his blaster out of the door.

"Do me a favor and don't shoot."

Rocket dropped the blaster. "Dey! What the hell are you doing here?"

Dey stepped into view, kneeling down to cuff Erebu. "I felt guilty that Nova Prime denied you the help. I get why, but- don't tell her I helped with the bust. All right?"

"Hey, I helped too," a second voice said.

"Kraglin?" Rocket exclaimed.

The Ravager stepped up, giving Rocket a little wave. "Dey called me. Couldn't bring in the crew on his word, bein' a cop and all, but, well, I ain't gonna ditch Pete." He whistled abruptly, sending the arrow flying by Rocket close enough to brush his fur.

Kutral screamed as it sank into her hand, reaching for her ankles in a bid for freedom.

"I'll help Dey get her outta here, but I'll be back for that," Kraglin said, pointing at the arrow.

"I'm afraid you've only got till then to get the answers you need," Dey warned. "I've got orders to take in the prisoners the moment they're caught."

Rocket nodded. "Go. We'll get what we need."

Kraglin and Dey dipped their hands, then started hauling Erebu away. Rocket turned on his heel, glaring at Kutral. On her other side, Drax rose to his feet, towering over them all. Groot went to guard the door.

Drax hefted Kutral up onto the bed with one hand, grabbing her arm and dumping her there. She smirked, the corners of her mouth wavering every so slightly. "You won't get the answer you want, not in the time you have."

Rocket leveled his blaster at her. "Oh, really?"

"If you kill me, then you definitely won't," she sneered.

"Fair point," Rocket acknowledged, holstering the weapon. He pulled a little knife out instead. Drax gripped Kutral's shoulders, pinning her down. "But I can give you a taste of your own medicine."

"That wasn't even me," she said, rolling her eyes. "That was Ms. Kitty Claws. She really had it in for him. Annoying, and contradictory to the plan, but I will admit that it was amusing to see an Asgardian prince acting like a terrified child."

"Where is Beb, anyway?" Rocket asked, suddenly realizing she wasn't there.

Kutral shrugged. "Probably having the time of her life. She went with your friends, you see, so she could keep having her fun." She went on, her voice slowing as if she were savoring the idea. "Loki is probably tied to a table, being sliced wide open, screaming for his dead mommy."

Rocket lashed out, sinking his claws into her flawless cheek. "Ow!" she yelped, raising a hand to feel the damage.

He held his knife over her arm. "Tell me where they are," he snarled.

"You're heroes," she said venomously. "You'll never do it."

Rocket adjusted his grip on the knife, preparing to sink it into her arm. Drax tightened his grip on her, ready to hold her still. Kutral leered at them, her face a mask. But something glimmered in the depths of her green eyes. Something Rocket recognized.

It compromises you. Even if you're doing it for the right reason.

Rocket had been on the verge of this before. So had Peter. So had Drax. So had Gamora. But in the last couple years, none of them had ever done it, no matter which one of them was in danger. Because Loki was there, holding them back, the trauma of his own torture glinting in the cracks of his mask as he saved even the scummiest scum of the galaxy from his own fate.

No one deserves that, Loki always said, standing between them and the would-be victim, fire in his voice. Absolutely no one.

"You're right," Rocket said. "But we're also former prisoners. So we'll let you escape, if you tell us."

Kutral narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't."

Rocket flicked his ears at Drax. Bemused, he stepped back, releasing her. She sat up, her gaze flicking between the two.

"You're right," Rocket said. "We won't resort to torture. We ain't stoopin' to your level. But we do know what prison's like."

"Is that supposed to make me trust you? Some sort of bond?"

Rocket shrugged. "Trust us, don't trust us, I don't give a crap. Point is, I've been in 23 prisons – I know what it's like behind bars. And it's even worse once you've gotten a taste of freedom again. I'd be willing to spare ya that, if you tell us where we can find our teammates."

Kutral tilted her head, considering the duo.

"You ain't got much time," Rocket urged, rubbing nonchalantly at the blood on his claws. "Those guys'll be back any minute now."

She dropped her hands with a ragged sigh. "We sold them to a man called the Grandmaster."

Rocket bit the inside of his cheek, suppressing an exclamation at the familiar name. I thought he was dead, the way they talked. Loki, Valkyrie, and Thor didn't mention him often, but Rocket liked to remember and laugh at dumbass names. His qualified.

Kutral was still talking. "You're lucky – normally I wouldn't know this much, but he's a talker, that Grandmaster. He's building some gladiator competition thing, on some planet called Iietera. If they get there, you won't have a chance, but if you found Ailiv, the planet where we stored them, go there. About halfway between that and Iietera is a little refueling port on a dwarf planet. It's nothing special, but it's their only option, and if they don't stop, they won't make it to Iietera."

"Dwarf planet halfway between Ailiv and Iietera," Rocket repeated. Kutral nodded. "Yup, got it."

She held out her wrists. "Now let me go."

"Nah."

"What?" she screeched. "But you said-"

"He lied," Dey said, coming inside with Kraglin and Groot. "He does that. Now, who's carrying you?"

She just spat at him.

"Guess I am," Dey said, throwing her over his shoulder. "Look, I'd love to help, but I can't go with you guys. I've gotta get these two back to Xandar."

Rocket nodded. "Thanks, Dey. We appreciate what you can give."

"I'm comin' with ya," Kraglin said, whistling to pull his arrow from Kutral's hand. It still bore the scars from the battle on Ego. "I ain't ditchin' till Quill's home."

Rocket straightened, bolstered by the day's successes. "What're we waitin' around for, then?"


A/N: I had that Rocket-holding-back-on-Loki's-account bit planned for ages before I wrote this chapter. I love my boys. Morally dubious, but never when it really counts