"S-Class, Deluxe Model Cruiser," Rocket bragged as he lead the way inside the appropriately named 'Sweet Ride'. It was a make of ship technically built for luxury, not robbery, but it came with the best cloaking in Xandar and most Corpsmen didn't want to deal with the ultra-rich so there would be little need to worry about interference. It wasn't the fastest model and had a hard limit of three points per jump, not to mention no weaponry. But it did come with a built-in surround sound system, hot tub and complimentary vintage.
"Woooooooow," breathed Floor, her eyes bulging in wonder as a dozen multicoloured lights flickered on above them.
Teefs awkwardly flopped into the backseats and was almost immediately buried in soft, silky goodness. "Your ship really is better, Rocket."
"Thanks," the raccoon grunted, unable to hold back a small, satisfied smirk as he uncorked a bottle of Xandar 072 and dunked in a dozen pills of concentrated temazepam. Crime payed. Crime payed very well.
"Must have cost you a fortune," Lylla commented, giving the polished leather seats a curious sniff.
"Er- sure let's go with that."
The otter squinted at him, likely coming to the correct conclusion that, technically speaking, the Sweet Ride wasn't his ship. It was just (for whatever reason) absurdly easy to steal the space equivalent of a limosine. Sure, the built-in tracker and engine clamp meant keeping it stolen was practically impossible but for someone looking to snag a day or two's joyride it was perfect.
"I don't suppose…" Teefs hesitated a moment, chewing his lip as he fiddled with his flippers. "... it supports remote piloting?"
"Actually it does." Which was another reason Rocket had chosen the Cruiser. He didn't need a ship for his part of the heist but getting in and out of Xandar's Communication tower required something stealthy for his batchmates to pilot. He grinned as Teef's face lit up like some kind of giant, overexcited puppy. "You wanna fly?"
"Yes please!"
"Alright, alright, just give me a sec." Rocket turned away and busied himself with the nav, not quite sure what to do with the warm, gushy feeling that was making his tail wag like some stupid dog's.
"What do all these buttons do?" J0100 asked, settling down in the front and gesturing at the dozen or so protruding from the side of his armchair.
The raccoon failed to hold back a snicker and reached a claw over to flick on the built-in massage feature. "Various comfort settings. Pretty cool, right?"
"S-s-s-s-s-s-o-o-o-o-o-o c-c-c-c-c-c-o-o-o-o-o-l!" the hare agreed, teeth chattering from the vibrations of a dozen servos.
"Best ship ever!" Floor cheered, hopping over to sit besides her fellow lagomorph.
"What's this?" asked Lylla, tugging at her seatbelt apprehensively.
Rocket frowned at her, unsure if this was just her messing with him again. "That's a seatbelt."
"What are they for?" she asked, with the same note of apprehension that told him she wasn't.
"Health and safety," Rocket shrugged. "And before you ask, that's a cupholder." He failed to hold back another snicker. "Holds your drinks so they don't spill." He slapped the nav back into place. "All set Teefs, take us away."
"You're the best, Rocket!" the walrus beamed, the engine roaring to life as he tapped into the controls.
The next thing he knew the Sweet Ride blasted off at full throttle, sending the unseated Rocket flying backwards. The raccoon hit the equally-startled Teef's blubbery side like a pinball and was promptly trampolined off of it and into Lylla's waiting arms. He was nearly sent hurtling back into the cockpit when Teefs hit the brakes far too quickly, but the otter held firm.
Floor and the Jackass were somewhat less lucky and hit the windshield like a pair of overgrown bugs, though judging from the way they were laughing about it this was likely the highlight of their week.
"So that's what seatbelts are for," Lylla quipped.
"Sorry," the walrus squeaked, as the Sweet Ride slowed to a more manageable cruising speed.
Mercilessly squashing the instinctive urge to snap at Teefs for his incompetence, Rocket shook himself out of the daze and waved the apology away. "Just watch the acceleration." He turned his attention back to the bemused Lylla. "Thanks for the save."
"Anytime."
She had a surprisingly delicate touch for someone who's arms could crush the outer hull of most spacecraft. Rocket made a mental note to ask her permission to look them over sometime. Preferably when being in her arms was less likely to turn his tail into a bottlebrush. Realising that he was staring, the raccoon awkwardly cleared his throat. "You can er- you can put me down now."
She did so gentler than he was used to (but then Drax wasn't called a walking thesaurus for nothing) and brushed the fur atop his head down... which only served to make it point up everywhere else.
Rocket turned away, trying desperately to ignore the way his heart seemed to be doing somersaults. "How about some music?" he asked, voice cracking as he pulled out something very important to a certain Star-Lord.
"Oh! Did Sire give you some of his recordings?" asked Lylla, her face lighting up in excitement. "I didn't think you were the type."
"I ain't," Rocket scowled, the bitter reminder of Sire's existence bringing him back into reality. And just when things had been going so well... The raccoon sighed. "That flarknard wouldn't know good music if it slapped him across the face." Before she could voice how much she disapproved of that sentence, Rocket pressed a claw to the otter's muzzle. "Nah-ah, don't talk. Just listen."
'Friday night I crashed your party
Saturday I said, "I'm sorry"
Sunday came and trashed me out again'
Quill likely wouldn't approve of his 'borrowing' the last thing his mother had ever given to him, much like how Gamora wouldn't approve of him 'borrowing' a Deluxe Cruiser, but where Rocket was concerned possession was an abstract concept. If the terran really didn't want him to have it, he'd have guarded it better. Much like the Cruiser, it was his batchmate's approval that sealed the deal. Rocket turned the volume up as their ears perked up in attention.
'I was only having fun
Wasn't hurting anyone
And we all enjoyed the weekend for a change'
A few immolaters down the line, Floor was all too eager to set off the next one. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease, Rocket?" she asked, folding three sets of limbs together and balancing awkwardly on her last pair as her bright red eyes grew impossibly wide and sparkled innocently.
It was a trick sure, one used by predatory flerkin to lure in unsuspecting prey, (he'd learned that the hard way)- It was also one of the first methods of getting what he wanted that Groot had mastered (he had learned that the hard way too).
Despite the way Lylla and Teefs were frantically shaking their heads behind Floor's back, Rocket relented with a sigh. Trap or not, he couldn't say no to that face.
'I've been stranded in the combat zone
I walked through Bedford Stuy alone
Even rode my motorcycle in the rain'
"Me next! Me next! Me next!" J0100 cheered, nearly setting off the dast thing as he wrenched the immolater out of Rocket's hands and hurried off into the ruins of what had once been a five-star restaurant. He returned a moment later, grinning from ear to ear and looking far too pleased with himself for the raccoon's liking. He faltered slightly at Rocket's scowl. "Did I do something wrong?"
Rocket was more annoyed than impressed to find that he hadn't.
'And you told me not to drive
But I made it home alive
So you said that only proves that I'm insane'
"What about you, eh?" the raccoon asked, holding the next immolater out to Teefs.
The walrus promptly shrunk in on himself, awkwardly wringing his flippers. "I-I don't know, Rocket. Y-you do it. You're better at it."
"Don't be scared," Floor teased, giving the walrus's side a gentle prod.
"It's very easy," J0100 agreed.
"M-maybe for you," Teefs protested. "B-but I don't have the- it's delicate. You need precision. And I don't have-"
"You can do it, 95," Lylla urged, giving him an encouraging pat on the back.
"P-probably but-"
"We can do it together," Rocket interrupted, holding out his paw instead. And after a moment of hesitation, Teefs accepted it.
'You may be right
I may be crazy
Oh, but it just may be a lunatic you're looking for'
After that, there was no question of setting the immolators off alone. Like any game, high-powered explosives were more fun with friends. The Jackass wanted to do it with Floor and they both came within an inch of killing them all. Teefs wanted to do it with Lylla, which really meant that Lylla had to do all of it. And Floor wanted to do it with Teefs, and the Jackass wanted to do it with Lylla and before they knew it they were on the last immolater.
It was then that Rocket had a rather dumb idea.
"Say cheese!" he cried, ignoring the logical part of his brain that told him it was stupid to snap a holo of something as illegal as what they were doing and pulling out his infoglass as Lylla, Teefs, Floor and J0100 all pressed an appendage on the detonator.
"Cheese!" chorused Batch 89, in far too good a mood to wonder what cheese was.
"What was that about?" asked Lyla, once she had rubbed the camera flash out of her eyes.
Rocket flipped the infoglass to show them, and was met with unanimous noises of delight.
As good as the picture was, it was also nothing short of incriminating, and Groot had a nasty habit of guessing his passwords as-is. Deleting it would be the safer option- because explaining the immolator business to Gamora or Fring would be tantamount to suicide.
"But wait!" cried Floor, snapping the raccoon out of his thoughts. "Rocket not in it!"
"Er- I mean it's just a holo. No big deal," Rocket made to shrug.
The next thing he knew the infoglass was plucked out of his hands and Floor was extending a mechanical leg like a selfie-stick as Lylla and the Jackass each grabbed him by a shoulder and pulled him into the shot.
"Say cheese!" Teefs chortled.
And feeling like the happiest schmuck in the known universe, his skin burning red beneath his fur, Rocket garbled out a 'Ch-cheese!' as the flash of the hololens blinded him.
It likely wouldn't take too much convincing to get Drax and Rocket to agree with the 'hunt Nebula down to make sure she's okay and then toss her in jail for the rest of her life' plan. The raccoon was likely to consent to it just based on the size of her bounty, and Drax could usually be counted on to go along with things. But just to be sure that the decision was unanimous, Quill thought it wise to ease the pair into it.
Besides, there was an equally pressing matter the Legendary Star-Lord needed to discuss with his teammate.
"Hey Groot, have you seen Rocket? And was he by any chance holding my walkman?"
The sapling looked up from the video game he'd been playing for the better part of the day. "I am Groot."
Right, Quill still couldn't understand him. According to Rocket it would be a while before he could. "... So if it's a yes, say anything. And if it's no, say nothing."
Without another word Groot turned back to the game and scored a triple headshot against a Chitauri cruiser.
Quill raised an eyebrow. "Didn't he come back earlier?"
He was met with more silence.
As unsurprising as it was to find that Rocket's sudden earlier bout of 'exhaustion' had been feigned, Quill had still expected to find the raccoon aboard the Milano; fiddling with a gadget or two while listening to stolen tunes he 'didn't care about'.
"Should I be worried?" Quill wondered aloud as Gamora walked past, balancing the half-melted remains of the Milano's old oven on her shoulder. "Drax and Cosmo aren't back yet either and they left before us."
"Rocket is entirely capable of looking after himself and has been doing so for longer than you or I have." Gamora replied, setting the oven down with a sigh. "If I had to guess, he's trying to scrap the ship from yesterday before whoever owns it tracks him down."
"That's… highly specific. What makes you think that?"
Gamora shrugged. "It's the type of thing he wouldn't want to tell us about and something he could get away with here on Xandar. Alternatively he went to track down whoever's responsible for his merchandise." She frowned, seriously considering the latter option and what it could mean for the parties involved.
"I'll call him," said Quill, urgently pulling out his comm.
Before they parted ways, Rocket made sure to go over the plan again; just to make sure his batchmates all understood their role in it and to lower the odds of them messing things up. With the Nova Corps spread as thin as they were, and how smoothly they had set the immolaters, Rocket was feeling somewhat more optimistic about his chances of pulling it off. "Any questions?"
"I h-a-v-e o-n-e!" J0100 announced, standing atop his vibrating chair importantly. "W-h-a-t i-s m-u-s-i-c for?"
"I... don't know," Floor admitted, eyes widening as if realising this for the first time.
"I don't see how that's relevant," Rocket frowned, shrugging despite himself. "Dancing, I guess. Anything else?"
"What's 'dancing'?" Lylla intoned.
"Is that, like, something you can eat?" asked Teefs. His belly gave a particularly audible growl at that, prompting him to hide his face behind his flippers.
"Not... really?" Rocket scratched the back of his head as he struggled to put the enigma that was 'dancing' into words. Quill believed it to be the greatest thing in the universe. Drax was vehemently opposed to it and said it was only for fools. For all the raccoon knew, both were equally likely to be true. "I guess it's… moving ridiculously? Like the way your tail does when you're happy."
The analogy fell somewhat flat considering Floor and J0100's tails were tiny, Lylla's didn't seem to wag and Teefs didn't really have one.
"The way my tail does when I'm happy," Rocket amended. "You know-" and feeling all kinds of stupid, the raccoon swished it from side to side to demonstrate. "Like this."
"I see," said Lylla, imitating the motion. "So I'm dancing?"
"Er- yeah. Sorta. I ain't really an expert." He raised a paw to scratch at his chest. "Anyways, I've got to get back before the other guys start asking too many questions. Or come looking for me, which would be way worse."
"Wait!" cried Floor, scuttling around him to block the door and staring up at him with her stupid, giant eyes. "Play one more game first?"
Rocket opened and shut his mouth, trying and failing to find a way to refuse her. "Fine, fine." Sighing, he held up a single claw. "But just one."
One game with Floor turned into one game with Teefs and one game with the Jackass and before long Rocket had lost track of both the time and the number of rounds.
Batch 89 had had ten years to think up new games and relatively little else to do so the rules were a lot more complex than he remembered, but Rocket knew the gist of it anyways. Floor liked any that involved moving a lot. Teefs preferred thinking games. And Lylla was always content to play along with whatever.
Before long they had added another to their vast and impressive repertoire. The appropriately named 'Dancing Game' (that most terrans would recognize as some version of musical statues) required four players to freeze as soon as the music stopped and start 'dancing' the second it turned on again.
Because he still had some shreds of dignity, Rocket was all too eager to handle the music.
They were on their eighth (the fifth) final round and it had come down to Teefs (who was good at this type of game because of the limited number of complicated motions he could carry out) and Floor (because she was good at virtually every game they played) after a particularly risky handstand had sent the Jackass teetering into Lylla.
'Don't know if words can say
But darlin' I'll find a way
To let you know what you meant to me
Guess it was meant to be
I hold you in my heart
As life's most precious part'
"Oh crap," Rocket groaned as his comm unit buzzed to life. It was blaring red, which meant Quill. Flarkflarkflarkflarkflarkflark! "Okay, new game. Everyone keeps their mouth shut while I answer this," he snapped, hitting pause on the walkman and freezing his batchmates on the spot. He waited a moment to make sure they understood and were unlikely to give things away before clearing his throat and putting on the voice of a Rocket that hadn't just spent most of his afternoon spreading bombs across an already-ravaged city. "Hey Quill, what's up?"
It wasn't long before Rocket answered. "Hey Quill, what's up?"
"Hey man. Was just wondering if you swiped my walkman at the tailor?"
Gamora gave him a look.
"What? I'm easing him into it," the terran mouthed, as a long, guilty pause confirmed that the raccoon had.
"Don't think I did."
"You suuuuure?" Quill teased, secretly glad it hadn't been snagged by the same insane fans that had torn a hole out of his jacket. At least Rocket's kleptomania usually ended with the walkman back in his possession.
"I ain't responsible every single time you misplace the dast thing!" He snapped, even though he definitely was this time.
"Relax man, that wasn't an accusation. I was just asking." He cleared his throat. Operation Schmooze Rocket And Stop Him From Commiting A Dozen Murders is a go! "Anyways, we got your stuff! And the particle generator too."
"That's great. Did you get the dual or monomolecular system?"
"You mean there's more than one!?" Rocket's laughter made it clear the raccoon was just pulling his leg.
"Twenty years in space, you'd think you'd know better!"
"Anyways..." Grunted Quill, rather annoyed by the one-upping. "Was wondering if you wanted to celebrate a little?"
That put an end to the raccoon's mirth. "Celebrate what?"
Quill shrugged. "Well we have a new teammate and a shit-tonne of money. If that's not worth celebrating I don't know what is."
"Er- I guess. I'm actually a little busy at the moment."
Before Quill could ask, a high-pitched, semi-robotic voice from somewhere besides the raccoon shrieked into existence. "LYLLA OUT! Me win! Me win!"
The Legendary Star-Lord shared a look of confusion with the equally-startled Gamora. "What are you up to?"
"N-nothing!" Rocket squeaked, voice spiking with panic, which made it clear that he was definetly up to something. "Hey!" he snapped at whoever was with him. "I said zip it!"
"But Lylla moved," said the same high-pitched alien. "So game over!"
Granted that 'something' sounded far less nefarious by the second.
"It's not fair!" a second, more ponderous voice complained. "He was tickling me the whole time!"
"No I wasn't!" a third one snickered.
If Quill had had to guess what Rocket was up to prior to phoning him; disregarding Gamora's theories, the terran would have assumed Deluxe Cruiser Joyride (because space limos were stupidly easy to steal). But the presence of what sounded...
"Yes you were!"
"Nah-ah!"
"Yeah-ah!"
"Yes you did J," added a fourth, somewhat more mature voice with a chuckle. "I saw you too."
...A lot like children ruled out that line of thinking.
"H-hey Quill. C-can I call you back?" And before the terran could reply, the distressed-sounding raccoon abruptly hung up.
"That was… weird," said Quill, tucking the comm back into his pocket after a lengthy pause. "Stiiiiill not sure what's going on but now I feel like a dumbass for making a big deal out of it."
"It doesn't sound like he has anyone at gunpoint," Gamora allowed. She frowned as she considered the information she had to work with.
"I am Groot!" Groot cheered, pulling off a particularly impressive bit of button-mashing and earning a quadrakill.
"...Do you think he signed up for parenting classes?"
"...Do you think he signed up for parenting classes?"
Rocket never thought he'd see the day where he was grateful for the fact that all his friends were idiots. And that included Gamora even if, relatively speaking, she was among the smarter ones.
Of course, there would have been no cause for panic if his batchmates could have just kept quiet for one frickin' minute.
"I'm sorry," he rounded on the quartet, snapping them out of whatever stupid argument they had been in the middle of. "But what part of 'keep your mouths shut' was unclear?"
"Floor's mouth was shut!" chirped Floor, gesturing at the stupid frickin' voicebox she had screwed over her jaws. "See! Not open!"
Rocket swelled with rage, and it was only after a hot minute or two of bouncing on the spot and damn near tearing off clumps of his fur (while Batch 89 looked on in concern) that he managed to hold back his temper. "Whatever." He took a deep breath to calm himself and pulled a brochure out from behind one of the seats. "You guys hungry?"
The question was moot. They hadn't eaten all day and Rocket himself was starving. He wasn't all that familiar with their dietary requirements but Teefs at least weighed a tonne and likely needed to eat as much to stay healthy.
"We have a couple of protein packs and vitamins back at the ship," Lylla replied. "We should probably be heading back there anyways. It'll be dark soon."
"Protein packs," Rocket muttered to himself. "Better than pellets, sure." He tossed the brochure aside once it became apparent that everything on it was for the kind of fancy dining that wouldn't have let him past the front door.
"So if you could set the nav…"
"We ain't going back to the ship," Rocket snapped, flicking the music back on again as the otter blinked in surprise.
Humming to himself the raccoon drew up the menu of the nearest drive-through on his infoglass and flipped the tablet over to show them. "We're getting some real food. Pick what you like."
"Oooooh!" chorused Floor, Teefs and the Jackass, rushing over to crowd around the offered tablet.
"What's salad?"
"A burger doesn't sound like something you can eat."
"Look! They have more gum!"
Snickering to himself, Rocket left them to figure it out on their own and retreated to the cockpit.
Pulling out his comm and wiring it to the keyboard he typed up a quick message. 'TAKING A PARENTING CLASS- DONT TELL THE OTHERS! PS I LIED, I HAVE THE WOKMAN. SORRY. Caps Lock.' Because the odds of Quill keeping that to himself were practically non-existent and confirming Gamora's theory was the most surefire way to throw her and by extent the rest of the Guardians off the scent.
Turning back to the muffled sound of his batchmates chattering, Rocket was startled to find Lylla had joined him.
"Hey," he managed a smile and was incredibly proud of his heartrate for maintaining it's normal tempo. "Ready to order?"
"No. No it's not that. It's just…" She trailed off, awkwardly twiddling her mechanical fingers as she struggled to find a way to word whatever it was she was trying to say.
"Just?"
"Sire said you were irrational!" Lylla burst out, wincing as if struck.
"Oh, right." The raccoon cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to hide how disappointed he was by those words. His fault for thinking it could have been something good.
"But… I'm not sure that's true anymore," Lylla went on, which would have lifted his mood right back up if she hadn't followed it up with. "I think you're planning something."
"Yeah, a heist," Rocket failed to hold back a scowl. "Don't give me that, I've explained the plan to you twice already and I know you were paying attention."
"You didn't mention any of this to Sire," the otter retorted, gesturing around at the Cruiser's interior. "And there's a reason you don't want us to go back to our ship-"
"That reason is an active immolater two feet from the door!" He raised an arm for silence before Lylla could argue further. "Look, okay, I'll admit that some of this is…" he frowned at the still-buzzing massage chair. "E-excessive and maybe a little unnecessary, but I just… I thought it'd be fun." He shoved his paws in his pockets and turned his gaze towards the ceiling. "You guys are important to me and I wanted things to be… nicer than last time. That's all."
"And the people on the comms?"
"My friends," Rocket sighed. "Who don't know about you, or the heist and who I'd like to keep that way."
"I… see." Lylla winced again, her shoulders slumping as she shrunk guiltily. "I'm sorry. I just… When it comes to you… I'm not sure what I'm supposed to think."
As much as it hurt to hear her say that Rocket nodded in understanding. Now it was his turn to struggle with verbalistics. Did she really not remember even a little of him? Not even a strange feeling of dejavu? Before he could work up the courage to open his big, stupid mouth and just frickin' ask her- the Jackass hopped over to hand him back the infoglass.
"We decided to order one of everything!" he said, sounding very pleased with himself.
"What can I say, guarding a Galaxy is hungry work," Rocket chuckled, grateful that his unwanted celebrity status at least came with a few perks. A video endorsement, a couple of autographs here and there, far too many violations of his personal space for his liking and the fast food workers were all too happy to give him a discount on the four hundred fifty-five unit bill.
Unfortunately his celebrity status meant that his and the rest of the Guardian's faces were plastered all over the boxes. Floor even discovered a miniaturised plushie that looked nothing like him inside the stupidly large golden 'egg' she had been sharing with Teefs.
"So you really are a hero," the walrus intoned, staring wide-eyed at the tiny stuffed Rocket that looked more like a multicoloured potato. "I admit I didn't believe you when you first said it."
"Me neither," added Lylla, shifting awkwardly in her seat as she struggled to spear noodles with her chopstick. "You don't really seem the type." Realising abruptly that what she'd just said was rude the otter hastily backtracked. "I mean, no offense it's just-"
"None taken," Rocket interjected, waving away her apology and helping himself to a leg of deep-fried kanuspick. "Fairly recent development. Still getting used to it myself."
"Shooooo?" asked J0100, who had never learned not to talk with his mouth full. "Haw'djudewit?"
"Long story."
"Ooooh! Storytime!" cried Floor, completely missing the point. "Storytime! Storytime! Storytime!" Before long the rest of Batch 89 had joined in chanting 'Storytime! Storytime! Storytime!' in unison, and Rocket relented with a sigh.
"It all started when this… this complete idiot called Star-Dork got his hands on this," he pulled out the orb to show them. "Because he had a brain the size of a fly, this so-called Legendary Outlaw had no idea what it actually was and that inside it there was something really powerful and really important."
"Is this him?" Teefs pointed a flipper at the face of one Peter J. Quill cropped on top of a burger box. "They mispelled his name. Says 'Lord' here."
"We should file a complaint," Rocket snickered, because seeing 'Star-Dork' plastered everywhere would make having merchandise worth it. "Anyways, this idiot has a dad who's not really his dad. Big blue idiot called Yondu. Now Yondu wasn't too happy about Star-Dork trying to sell the orb behind his back so he puts a price on him. Fourty-thousand units for the lucky flarknard who brings him back for a Ravager execution. That lucky flarknard happened to be me and my partner, Groot. They don't got a picture of him but he was a tree and the… the nicest guy in the universe." The raccoon cleared his throat and as a precautionary measure wiped his eyes and nose.
"So anyways," he went on, as Batch 89 watched in rapt attention. "We're ready to stuff Star-Dork in a bag when this crazy green chick shows up out of nowhere and damn near kills him."
"Her?" And Lylla pointed at a rather stylised rendition of Gamora on the side of her noodle box.
"Her." Rocket confirmed. "Now the bounty specifically asks for Star-Dork alive so we can't have some other moron ruin the goods. Next thing you know we're having a three way brawl in the heart of Xandar! I win, obviously," he shrugged modestly, neglecting to mention that Gamora had thrown him bodily across the square and had casually shoved him aside a second time before proceeding to chop off both Groot's arms. "But yanno, everyone tried their best and that's what matters. In any case we were all arrested for disturbing the peace and sent to the Kyln."
"The Kyln?" asked Floor, her voice giving the legendary prison it's due ominance.
"The Kyln," echoed Rocket, grinning from ear to ear. "Where we meet the last of our motley crew. Drax!" And before anyone could ask he pointed a claw at the nearest tattooed maniac on display. "Now they're all desperate to leave coz the Kyln ain't a nice place, but they're practically helpless. I guarantee Star-Dork couldn't pick a lock if he had the key for it! Luckily, they've got me and I'm pretty good at this sorta stuff so we make a deal and the next thing you know I hijack the control tower, shut off the station's artificial gravity and fly us out."
"Now you guys remember the orb?" Rocket once again pulled it out to show them as Batch 89 collectively nodded. "Inside it there's something called an Infinity Stone- cosmic ingot of phenomenal frickin' power! We try to sell it to some rich douche with awful housekeeping- not because of his awful housekeeping, because he's rich- but things go sideways and this blue maniac shows up."
"Yondu!" gasped J0100, spilling a packet of popkernels.
"No, not Yondu. Well, actually he was there too. But no, this is a different blue maniac," Rocket clarified. "There's like a whole planet of them. Anyways, his name's Ronan and he wants to destroy Xandar."
Teefs raised a flipper.
The raccoon shrugged. "I don't know why he wanted to do it, he just did, yanno? Crazy people don't need a reason to be crazy. Anyway, he gets his hands on the stone, sticks it to his hammer and tries to blow up the planet."
"And you stopped him?" asked Floor, red eyes shining up at him with genuine admiration.
"And I stopped him," Rocket repeated, smiling despite himself as he shrugged. "With a little help anyways."
"Really? Because it sounds like you did everything," Lylla pointed out, staring at him with a mix of wonder and disbelief.
"Trust me, I do. Every day is just an endless cycle of 'Rocket do this. Rocket do that.' I swear the other Guardians wouldn't last a day without me."
"Guardians?" chorused Batch 89.
"The Guardians of the Galaxy," Rocket explained. "It's what we call ourselves." He raised a claw to scratch at his chest, surprised that he had said the stupid name out loud. "Or well, what Quill calls us anyways."
"I like it," chirped J0100.
"Yeah," the raccoon sighed, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. "Me too."
"So what did you do before that?" asked Teefs. "Because you said this hero stuff was a fairly recent development."
Rocket shrugged. "Same kinda stuff really. Robbed places. Broke out of places. The only difference was that I er- I did it…" he trailed off, busying himself with a curly bit of fried sombatter as he struggled to convey how much suckier his life had been before Groot had come along and offered him the flower of friendship.
"Alone?" offered Lylla, her voice soft and her tone gentle, as if she were bandaging a wound.
"Well not completely alone," Rocket said lightly. "I had a dog for a bit. And Groot for a while and he was great. And there was always some bounty hunter to partner up with and stuff like that but…"
"It's not the same as having friends," the otter finished, padding over to wrap her arms around him. As Floor and Teefs and the Jackass joined them, Rocket found that no truer words had ever been spoken.
He also found that he was crying. And didn't care.
Footnote: The songs in this chapter are 'You May Be Right' by Billy Joel (really fitting lyrics I think for the position Rocket and his Batchmates are in) and Darlin' by the Beach Boys.
Basically another purely fluff/set-up/character-centric chapter of Rocket trying to rekindle his bond with the rest of Batch 89, while also giving them a few important lessons about the Galaxy as a whole. Like seatbelts, cupholders and fast food. Had maaaaaaaaaybe too much fun writing this chapter for I think obvious reasons. A lot of the jokes genuinely had me laughing as I was writing them. Hope it's not too out-of-character for Rocket to be so (relatively) cheerful but so far most of the fic he's been miserable so I wanted to give the little guy a break.
...Especially considering what is to come.
Hope you all enjoyed, thank you all for the comments and the kudos, they never cease to make me smile 3