CH 2
By morning the storm had abated into a low drizzle and Rocket awoke to the sun shining on his face from the cracks between the window blinds. But that wasn't what awoke him from asleep at the tiny living room's sofa, what had woke him up were the three tiny raccoon faces peering at him. They were all wearing fairly simple outfits of T-shirt and trousers. One of them is clearly bigger than the rest, so likely the firstborn, the other two are harder to distinguish by age but between the two, one has a small Mohawk like growth of hair and the other one looks like his constantly thinking something. Rocket couldn't help but think them as cute as buttons.
"Are you daddy? mommy says don't wake daddy at the sofa but you look like hobo and mommy says don't talk to hobo but ye'r not hobo if ye'r in our sofa." The Mohawk wielder comments on Rocket's unkempt appearance and sounds rather proud of his 'reasoning'.
"Daddy is living in the sky dummy. This isn't daddy. It's just a hobo." The biggest one comments unimpressed.
"You're the dummy hobo, Trey. I'm telling you that's daddy!" Mohawk retorts turning on his brother.
"No, you are!" Trey declares starting to wrestle with the Mohawk wielder on the floor.
"If you ain't daddy like Duo says. Then why does mommy say don't wake daddy on the sofa? Why didn't you stay at sky daddy?" The philosophical looking one asks, staring at him with his big wet dark eyes and had he sucked his thumb as well, Rocket would have probably melted. He momentarily feels utterly lost for words.
"I missed you and your momma." He finally replies when the kit tugs his arm impatiently to stop him from zoning, turning his attention on the kits wrestling on the floor. The kit follows his gaze and shrugs in most child-like manner. "Trey and Duo always fight and then mommy tells them to stop and puts Trey and Duo on cooling corners."
Rocket yawns, finally getting up from the sofa. At least he had thought of wearing his E.V.A suit's under layers as makeshift nightclothes before going to bed. There was no need in his mind to showcase his cybernetics and cause their kits nightmares about their 'daddy' being an 'alien robot'. The apparently youngest one almost immediately jumps up and climbs on Rocket's shoulders and curls his tail around Rocket's neck like a scarf, which he doesn't mind too much since the kit weights hardly nothing to him. "uu- soft." the kit mumbles, probably about the fabric he was waddling at his paws. "Please don't." Rocket absently slaps the tiny paws away to make the kit stop. The long sleeved grey mid-layer suit was a bit sensitive to tight creases not to mention the kits sharp claws possibly puncturing it.
"Okay, that's enough. Knock it off boys!" He grunts lifting both kits effortlessly up from the floor by the loose skin at the back of their necks. "Let's see if mommy's made breakfast yet." He announces marching to the family kitchen -separate from the actual main one. Youngest of his kits riding between his shoulders and the two 'fighting men' held separately, one in each outstretched hands.
Rocket set the kits down and loose once he was sure they weren't going to start squabbling again immediately and started to look for breakfast ingredients from cupboards and kitchen closets. Nidnene had left a note on the table explaining that she had needed to make a quick dash at the market to get some dinner supplies for the paying guests and that Rocket should get something for the kits and himself from the pantries while she was away. Rocket folds the note into his pocket trying to decide what to do as breakfast.
"Okay kits, while I'm happy to let ye call me daddy. I do have a name and its Rocket. So what's yours boys?" Rocket asks conversationally while making some porridge and pancakes -some of the few foods he knew he wouldn't bungle up. Well assuming the weird green leathery feeling 'egg' was what it looked like and the flour was indeed baking flour of some kind. While he was brilliant tactician, astonishing engineer and gadget maker, he'd never been much of a chef.
"Rocket? That's a funny name." Trey giggles innocently enough until Duo smacks him on the shoulder and Trey returns it in force, causing Rocket to get in between them again. He looks at the kits for a moment before coming to a realization and decision which in hindsight seemed conspicuously familiar to the kits judging by the way they almost initiated it just by themselves without much prompting from Rocket. In other words putting Trey and Duo to sit on the opposite ends of the kitchen table, with Uno in the middle, seemed to be the most viable tactic to keep them from constantly 'sparring' while he was trying to make a breakfast.
"Well, I do know that ye two rug rats are Trey & Duo but what's ye name young man?" Rocket asks from Uno in his most jovial tone while dividing the pancakes and porridge for the kids and himself at the table.
"Don't tell him Uno. His just trying to bribe u' with pancakes." Trey snaps and gets a sudden ups-look on his face.
"Ahh-ha! so, its Uno, Duo and Trey, so which one of you is the oldest?" Rocket nods with a toothy grin. Sure he could have just asked it from Nidnene but it felt nice to chat with the kits, get to know them and... at least try being as close to a 'normal parent' as someone like him could ever get.
"I'm oldest. Then Uno and Duo is the runt." Trey announces proudly with a self-assured nod, having artfully cock-blocked his 'rivals' from answering.
"Well, eat up kits so I can bribe you with pancakes again tomorrow." Rocket promises digging in on his share. All three kits cheer eagerly at the prospect of being bribed again tomorrow.
Rocket was cleaning up the last of the dishes by the sink when Nidnene returned seeming slightly flustered. She stops to look around at the kitchen before looking worriedly at Rocket. "Where's the kits, Rocket?"
"Oh they went outside to play with the neighbors kits, but don't worry I made them some breakfast before that." Rocket replies finishing with the dishes.
"I- I think ye better go git 'em in." She mumbles looking rather dazed which made Rocket frown in worry. "Okay, what's wrong Nidnene? You look like you've seen your dead relatives."
"I- I think I just saw a big storm forming up, Rocket. That's all" She sighs sitting tiredly on the kitchen chair.
Rocket looked at his wife in askance, still not understanding why she seemed so concerned over a storm brewing, they were fairly common at this time of the year here. "Sure, I'll go get them. Where'd ye think they're usually hanging around when with friends?" Rocket promises though he'd rather not leave her right now, she seemed... unstable somehow, almost as if in shock.
"I dunno, at the public sports park usually." She sighs trembling slightly. Yep she'd definitely seen something bad but was still too shocked to say it out aloud and thus admit what she'd seen to be real. Rocket noted silently and poured a cup of brandy for her. "Here drink that, it'll help a little, I'll be back soon with the kits." He promises before leaving to get his suit and weapons from the basement where he'd hid them earlier.
When he came back to kitchen he noted that Nidnene was still there and seemed a bit less shaky though the content in the bottle at the table had lowered quite a bit. It might actually be best if she'd just pass out. Always helped me in dealing with bad shit. Rocket thought pulling his makeshift poncho over his head before walking out the backdoor. The green tarpaulin looked positively ridiculous but it was still less conspicuous than what was concealed underneath it and inside the ladies shoulder bag. Luckily Nidnene wasn't in a state to care if her prized Ucci got banged up.
The moments between stepping out of the door and walking along the short alley to peer along the borough's main street, made him realize he wouldn't have needed to bother. Horrifyingly familiar shadows of great, ugly and spiky looking ships loomed over the sky. There were bodies on the streets and at that moment he knew; everything would die. The sky was as red as the blood being shed. A threat of annihilation hung above this earth, staring down menacingly. Under its gaze, the planet's populace trembled in fear. As the world's army futilely warred above, the people stood paralyzed. Silent. They faced extinction, the end of everything they knew. But there was only silence. The pungent smell of gasoline, oil and rot was prevalent as the horrifying Zom-troops advanced, fires crackled, spreading all over the weeping city. Buildings and people died, crying out as they crumbled around the gathered crowds, but no one moved. They stood, eyes glazed over, like deer in headlights. All there was, was destruction. Their defending forces falling like dominoes, life was snuffed out without notice. Bullets and plasma cut through the air, as one army fought for survival and the other for conquest over the earth and sky. As the panic spread through the City, the gathered crowds knew too that their world would not end in fire and ice, only in blackness of death. Heroes fell as peace and order that had stood for centuries gave way to the sheer destruction that was upon them. Not an inch of land would not be touched by ash, and not one person was not witnessing the incursion from another world. The explosions up above went largely unnoticed by the frozen and quiet populace. They knew the truth. This was the very end. Everything would die. The Badoon war hosts were here though nobody; except the one who knew, would call them as that at the time. To them the Badoon were simply death.