Despite Xandar's relatively speedy recovery process, there were still vast areas of the city left untouched since Ronan's attack. These were cordoned off and blocked up as well as the Corps could manage but the vast majority remained perilously on the verge of collapse. Half-a-hundred necrocraft divebombers would do that to you.

Strictly speaking they were off-limits for all personnel until the Corps could find the funds and the manpower necessary to demolish or repair them properly. Of course, the average Xandarian, even the less law-abiding ones, had little interest in hanging around in an area filled with dust and rubble where the odds of a building collapsing on you were never zero so it wasn't like the lack of enforcement was a serious issue. And it made Rocket's life easier so, for once, the raccoon had no complaints. No Corpsmen. No crowds. No cameras.

Giving the Guardians the slip had been easy. All he'd had to do was yawn a bit, start dragging his feet and before he'd gotten halfway through the act Gamora had insisted he head back to the Milano and get some rest. Quill had been all too eager to assure him that he would handle the shopping list and one quick trip to the tailor later, Rocket was free.

Lugging a sack over his shoulder and ineffectively trying to lick permanent (and foul-tasting) ink off his paw (Dey swore it would wear off in a couple of hours), Rocket scuttled across piles of debris, trying not to think too much about what he was doing.

"You're late."

Taking a deep breath, Rocket did a half-turn to find Lylla leaning against a slanted pillar, bulging arms crossed over her chest and a smile on her face.

"Hey," he croaked, ignoring the fluttering of a dozen butterflies and doing his best to swallow his fears. He had faced down kronans and kronan-eating plants and more bounty-hunters and prison guards than he cared to count. He could handle a couple of friends. Clearing his throat, he tried in vain to come up with a topic of conversation. When the silence grew awkward he settled for thrusting the sack towards her. "Can you carry this? It's heavier than it looks."

"Okay," Lylla shrugged, and in her arms 'heavier than it looks' was practically weightless. But then, she was strong enough to lift Teefs clear off the ground. "What's inside?" she asked, throwing it over her shoulder and gesturing for Rocket to follow her.

"A surprise," the raccoon replied, scratching at his chest and doing his best not to stare. Even after all the time he'd had to come to terms with her survival, it was still so damn hard to believe what he was seeing was real.

Lylla squinted at him with mock-suspicion. "What is it?"

"Well," Rocket himself. "I mean. T-the point of a surprise is that you don't know what it is."

"I know what a surprise is, silly." She punched him lightly on the shoulder, prompting his tail to puff out and his fur to stand on end. " I'm just messing with you. Come on P13, the others are waiting.

"You can call me Rocket yanno," the raccoon grumbled, ineffectively trying to pat his fur down.

Lylla froze on the spot. "I er- don't think that's a good idea." Before Rocket could discern whatever the hell that meant she shook her head and abruptly changed the subject. "Xandar's a lot nicer than Corix! Cleaner, brighter, sunnier… Kind of wish we had come here first."

"I guess the sunshine is pretty nice," Rocket allowed, feeling like a complete idiot for talking about something as mundane as the weather. "So wait, was Corix the er- was that your first? I mean, planet. O-other than Sire's?"

Lylla nodded and Rocket felt another lump drop into his stomach. It was quickly followed by a stab of anger. Ten frickin' years and the first time they had been let out of Sire's grasp was to play 'Beat Up Rocket'.

"Wow," was all he managed to say, and by then they had turned the corner and reached the stupid, square, windowless ship. Well. Soon enough it'd be shrapnel.

"P13!" cheered Floor, and despite the lack of active buzzsaws, Rocket still felt his heart skip a beat as she rushed over to greet him with a very firm, enthusiastic paw-shake.

"Hello," said Teefs, waving amicably from where he lay upside down. The Jackass was there too, bouncing on the walrus's belly and grinning as he waved.

"Hey," Rocket replied and he had never wanted to slap himself harder. He wouldn't get anywhere if he kept freezing up like this. He could handle friends. He could handle friends. He could handle friends.

"You're late," drawled Sire, emerging from behind a collapsing pillar, his arms folded behind his back.

Enemies were easier.

Rocket snarled as his blood ran cold. "First of all, I can't go anywhere on this stupid planet without getting glomped. Secondly, what the hell are you doing here!?"

Floor's eyes widened in horror. Lylla took a step backwards. Teefs gasped and covered his mouth with his flippers. J0100 froze mid-air and missed his target, hitting the ground in a cloud of dust. Well, they had probably never seen anyone talk to Sire the way he just had…

The High Evolutionary smirked. "I wanted to test this new holographic caster. Quite lifelike isn't it?" He reached out an arm and it took all the self-control in the world for Rocket not to snap at it. The pixels fuzzed on contact, but Rocket supposed he'd already lost that round. His paws curled into fists as he bore his fangs, but Sire took no heed and to add insult to a lifetime of injury crouched down to gently stroke the fur atop his head. "I also wanted to hear this plan of yours. You are, after all, using my assets." The pixels vanished altogether as he squeezed at one of Rocket's ears. "You do have a plan, don't you P13?"

"Course I do," the raccoon bristled, stepping backwards so that he was out of reach of Sire's holographic hands and hating himself for how easily he'd let the bastard get under his skin.

Gesturing the befuddled and mildly terrified Batch 89 closer, Rocket set his infoglass on the ground. With an audible 'bloorp' it projected a map of Xandar Central.

"We're going for this," he explained, pulling out one of the spare orbs Theel had built for him.

Floor raised a mechanical limb. "I have question."

"Er- alright," replied Rocket, entirely unprepared for this turn of events. In the corner of his eye he caught sight of Sire rolling his eyes and it was all he could do to bite back a growl. Noone else seemed to notice, which was, if anything, even more infuriating. Granted, they were all looking at him, and the High Evolutionary was standing behind them, but it still made his blood boil. Funny how much stuff you miss when you don't want to see it. "Go for it!" he snapped, unable to stop some of his anger from leaking out.

"What is that?" asked Floor, pointing at the orb in his hand.

"This," Rocket began, summoning all of the patience two Groots had taught him. "Is a device used to contain things that are valuable and-or dangerous." He tossed it into the air and caught it again. "What we actually want is what's inside it." He popped it open with a claw to show them-

"But it's empty," the Jackass pointed out.

"Yes," Rocket allowed, gritting his teeth and keeping his ears pointed forwards. "This one is. I'm glad you noticed. The one we're after isn't. Now can I get back to the plan?"

Both lagomorphs nodded and one deep breath later, the raccoon went on as if there had been no interruption.

"Currently, the orb is in possession of the Nova Corps, likely kept here. Xandar's principle headquarters, center of the Nova Empire." He drew a circle around it on the map to show them and zoomed in. "Tomorrow morning, ten AM sharp, I'll be here," he gestured again at the rough location of Dey's office. "In position to grab the orb once the opportunity presents itself."

"How are you going to get in?" asked Teefs, staring at him in either horror or wonder. It was hard to tell with his eyes sometimes. "Wait, sorry." The walrus shrunk in on himself and raised a flipper. "I have a question."

It would be so much easier to keep his temper in check if he didn't have to watch Sire rubbing at his temples. "I've got a mission report to submit." Rocket explained, shoving his paws into his pockets to hide the fact that he was clenching them into fists. "And," he added with a tiny smirk. "I'm something of a hero here."

"Wooooow!" breathed Floor. "That's cool!"

"Thanks." Ignoring the disbelieving side-eye the rest of Batch 89 shared with one another, Rocket went on. "Once I'm in their system I'll know for sure where they're keeping the orb. There's a small chance it's no longer on Xandar, but most likely they're keeping it in the vaults. What I need from you guys is a way in. Did you bring the stuff I asked for?"

"Twenty-four standard issue kree immolaters, a voice-locked trigger, and concentrated temazepam," Lylla recounted.

Rocket nodded in approval. "Your job is to spread the Nova Corps thin so that there's as few people in HQ as possible." Zooming out of the holograph so that the map was once again displaying the vast majority of Xandar Central, Rocket drew a set of circles around the various closed-off districts like the one they were currently in. "First, we're gonna spread the immolaters around. These parts have long since been evacuated so we won't be hurting anyone." And the Nova Corps want to demolish them anyways, so we'll be doing them a favour.

"And you chose Kree technology to set the Xandarians further on edge," Sire noted, a disgusting smile plastering his mask-face. "And to give them less reason to suspect you."

Rocket ignored him and the shudder that travelled down his spine. "We set the explosives up in advance. One every five minutes, starting ten o' five. Once the bombing starts, you guys will head here," and he drew a final circle over a tall tower on the outer edge of Central Xandar. "Main communication tower. Once the explosions start the Nova Corps will dispatch it's nearest active Corpsmen so it should be unguarded. Teefs will hijack the comm networks and disable them. When that happens, I'll initiate the lockdown and convince Xandar's Denarrian to let me check on the orb, at which point I'll swap out the one we want with an identical duplicate."

Sire frowned at that. "And you're certain they'd trust you with that?"

Rocket shrugged. "I saved their family and their frickin' planet. Besides, he won't have a choice. Once the base goes into lockdown the easiest way into the vaults will be through the ventilation system and I'm the only one small enough to fit. Once I've swapped the orbs, you guys will restore communications and clear out. I'll pass the orb to you and you'll pass it onto Sire. If all goes well, noone will even know it's gone." Not until he wanted them to know anyways. "Any questions?"

"I see you've put a lot of thought into this," said the High Evolutionary ponderously. "It's not quite foolproof but-"

"With all due respect, which is to say none at all," Rocket interrupted, ignoring the way his batchmates recoiled as he stormed past them towards the stupid hologram. "I don't think your opinion counts for much. You've robbed, what? One bank? Two? Zero?" Sire grit his teeth, the veins on his neck bulging with barely contained rage. "Wasn't asking you anyways." Satisfied with his small victory, Rocket turned back to his batchmates. "Any questions?"

"Have you given any thought as to what will happen should things go awry?" Sire demanded, not one to be defeated so easily.

That wiped the satisfaction right off his face. Rocket screwed his eyes shut and did his best to ignore the sound of a distant, haunting gunshot. "If you are caught or captured, keep your mouths shut and your words to yourself." He forced himself to meet their eyes. "But don't let it get to that."

"We won't," Lylla promised, with far too much confidence for his liking.

"Try not to be seen either," the raccoon added, taking a deep breath and turning back to glower at the High Evolutionary. "And not a word from you. Not one. You got that? I'll let you know when things are done."

Sire met his glare with a frown. "Do not disappoint me." Clapping his hands together he turned his attention to Batch 89 and smiled. "Best of luck to all of you. I look forwards to hearing the results. Toodle-doo!"

The hologram vanished and remembering he was supposed to frickin' breathe, Rocket let out a sigh of relief.

That was the easy part over with…

Teefs raised a flipper. "I have another question."

"Go for it."

The walrus waited until his heartbeat slowed to it's usual tempo before once more sending it skyrocketing. "Why are you so rude?"

"Geez, I don't know? Maybe some no-faced flarknard strapped me to a surgical table before I knew what my frickin' reflection was! I think that was pretty rude. So was re-aligning my spine, restructuring my skeleton and refining my brain so that I know what the freak on the other side of my mirror is. But hey, at least I've got opposable thumbs!"

Rocket's scowl faltered as his batchmates shrunk beneath his outburst. It crumbled altogether as he sighed. "Let's just say being nice hasn't gotten me anywhere." He kicked at a stray piece of rubble and raised a paw to scratch at his chest. "Anything else?"

"Well, it's more of an amendment, really." The walrus cleared his throat impressively and pointed at himself. "But I'm Lylla."

"And I'm Teefs!" J0100 grinned, jabbing both thumbs towards himself.

It was as if the world had turned upside down and Quill had declared his undying hatred for all things musical. Utterly blindsided, Rocket's baffled, open-mouthed stare shot from one grinning batchmate to the other. "What?"

"J0100 Teefs, A95 Lylla, and me is Floor!" explained Floor, with an overexcited flourish of her mechanical grabbers.

"No," Rocket grit his teeth and jabbed a claw at the bemused Lylla. "She's Lylla." He pointed the same claw at the still-grinning walrus. "You're Teefs."

"Well yeah," the Jackass allowed. "But then Q12 let me be Lylla and then A95 wanted to be Lylla sooooo we…" he noticed the way the raccoon was glowering at him and shrunk in on himself. "We er- swapped names."

"You can't swap names!"

"Why not?" demanded Teefs.

"Because!" Rocket opened and shut his mouth, his ears falling back as he bit down an involuntary snarl. Because it was so much more than some stupid game. Names were the first and only thing the four of them had decided for themselves. And they had chosen them. And just because this older, stupider Teefs didn't like the size of his chompers didn't mean he hadn't felt the same rush of excitement Rocket had whenever they addressed each other by their chosen denomination.

"I didn't realise names had so many rules," Lylla commented, and her tone was amicable enough, but Rocket had spent enough time around Gamora to know that that was their way of putting an end to the discussion.

"Whatever!" Rocket snapped, waving the argument away and vowing to bring it up again at the earliest opportunity. "We've got more important things to deal with. First thing's first," he snatched the sack out of Lylla's grip and with a criminal lack of showmanship dunked it's contents all over the ground. "You're gonna put on some frickin' pants."

The first article of clothing Rocket had ever worn was an old, itchy, slightly-oversized prison uniform. He'd been shoved into it for the sake of decorum, and despite the fact that it stunk something awful, Rocket had clung onto it long after escaping Tharvis K-8. He'd been stupid enough to think it would help him fit into society better. And while wearing clothes did little to change what he was, it did hide the majority of his cybernetics.

He and his batchmates would never be 'normal', whatever the hell that meant, but clothes could help bridge the gap somewhat.

"Oooh!" cried Floor, picking up a pair of pants and shoving them over her antennae.

… If worn properly anyways.

"No Floor, those aren't-"

"Awesome!" the Jackass cheered, shoving a foot through the arm-hole of a shirt.

"You're not supposed-"

"I don't think any of this will fit me," Teefs intoned with exaggerated delicacy so as not to offend the raccoon.

"The jacket should-"

Rocket was cut off by the sound of tearing and spun round to see that Lylla had just torn both sleeves off the jacket in an effort to shove her mechanical arms into them.

"Guess it's a vest now," the raccoon grumbled, dragging his paws over his face. "No Lylla, that hole's for your tail."

"What tail?" asked Teefs, frowning up from the scarf he was now contemplating.

This was gonna be a long day…

Footnote: Woof! Probably the single most challenging chapter I've had to write so far and ironically enough I think it's the shortest. Granted, I still think it's more than enough content to stand on it's own.

I wasn't really sure how to continue off the end of the last one, and although my efforts in doing so did lead to a couple of fun scenes I decided to skip ahead a bit and get to the actual 'Job' part of the Xandarian Job for the sake of keeping things moving.

And then because I hate myself I threw The High Evolutionary into the planning scene and he's quite hard to write in a 'crowd'- especially when he's still kinda pretending to be a benevolent being. Can't have him be too outwardly antagonistic towards Rocket because that makes Batch 89 and their trust in him look a little toooo stupid, but also can't have him being anything other than his despicable self. And I do think it's in-character for him to want to be involved in all the finer planning.

I had a blast writing Rocket and Batch 89 together again- especially now that they're working together rather than playing 'Beat Up Rocket'- and I think having the High Evolutionary there gives an otherwise silly scene with a lot of comedy bits some gravitas. Hope you all enjoyed, as always curious to hear your thoughts.

Next up we get one more 'Calm Before The Storm' chapter featuring more of Rocket and Batch 89 and a little bit more of the Guardians on Xandar. And then the chapter after that the Xandarian Job actually starts. So stay tuned, we are in for exciting times.