[OPEN POST] GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY: Rocket

[beatupgrass]

[PICTURE PROMPT | GENERAL TEXTING | RANDOM SCENARIO | ETC]

Comments

[pathology]

[scene: a place. where there are expensive things. museum, it's a museum. why would i write like a normal human when i could take you on this stream of consciousness with me?? anyway. rocket and astrid both want the same expensive piece of shit so here they are trying to steal it at the same time. since she's a beautiful yuan-ti princess (not actually a princess that's just in her mind ok) i guess she doesn't wear contacts in this world and has her bright green snake-y eyes. eyes that are staring at him like oh shit son i might have to do a murder.]

The museum's closed.

[ ^ definitely works here]

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket stares back thinking exactly the same thing, except you know with more bared teeth. Call it a small, furry mammal response to snake eyes.]

Oh no, my mistake. What an embarrassment this is. Guess I better pack up all my stuff, go home, and then come back at a more convenient time.

[he is doing none of that. if his sarcastic voice is any indication, he will never be doing that.]

[pathology]

[she stares at him some more ... clearly having some kind of internal debate, and finally sighs huffily. like this is clearly a dumb teenage girl piece of shit (but she might still murder you, you just don't know.)]

So you're like ... what, a raccoon or a fox or something? You're fucking adorable. It's making this hard.

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket's expression has all the quality of someone who just licked a lemon.] Are you serious right now? You're busting in on my heist and you're gonna act like you're the one put out? I didn't come here to get demeaned.

[he's got a security system to disable, Astrid. GOSH. And clearly not finding her to be a threat, he bounds past like a stealthy furry ninja on four legs.] You better run on home, girly, before you get distracted by something else adorable.

[pathology]

I'm not a girly! I'm Astrid M‪ädchen! [she emphasizes her name like it's supposed to mean anything at all to him (nah.) but now she feels like she needs to ~prove herself~ so she trails off after him.] It could be our heist, okay?

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket stops short and bangs a fist into his open palm, looking suddenly excited.] Ooooh. I've heard that name. Yeah, yeah, you did that job on, um... Lemme think. [he drops his hands and gives her another flat, disdainful look that seem to just naturally sit on his cute fuzzy face.] ...Planet Doesntexist in the Bullshit Quadrant.

[he waves her off.] I work alone. I don't even do museum jobs. Hell, on any other day, I'd have left it to you and gotten my units elsewhere, but then you called me adorable, and now I'm thinkin'... Nah.

[pathology]

[she sucks in her cheeks, trying to decide if this is even worth it or not. she decides that the answer is something like "sure, whatever, fuck it" and calls out:]

I know the codes to the security system. My parents have the same set-up. And most of these dumbasses never change it from the system default. I can make this place your candy store.

[things u do when ur sad and don't have friends and find a talking raccoon??]

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket's halfway up the side of the building when he stops, considers his options, and growls when he realizes that there's only one option if he doesn't want to make this overcomplicated. He doesn't know this chick. She could easily rat him out if he just ditches her.

Crap.]

...Why? [Because there's a catch. There's always a catch.]

[pathology]

[HUFF.]

Because I'm bored, okay? I don't fucking care.

just fucking auing carol in here

[airforceful]

[Captain Carol Danvers has seen a lot in her life. That's what happens when you're an ordinary pilot in the Air Force that ends up fighting in battles that have freaking Avengers in them. She's always aimed high and generally hit her mark.

But she never fucking expected this.

Two months ago, a man from space landed in her back yard, a Kree named Mar-Vell. He told her all sorts of things, about the Guardians of the Galaxy, about Thanos, about a universe so much wider than she'd ever imagined, even after all she'd seen. He told her about a device, the Psyche-Magnitron, that could be what was needed to defeat Thanos once and for all before he even became a problem for the Avengers. She'd hardly been able to believe it when he asked her to come with him to claim it from Ronan's ship. She had no superpowers, just guts, brains, and determination.

And yet it had all gone so very wrong.

She still isn't sure what happened. There's a weird empty flash between when they found the Psyche-Magnitron and when Mar-Vell was dead in her arms and the Psyche-Magnitron was in pieces around them. All she knows is that now she can fly and shoot energy from her hands and quite possibly bench press the Hulk. But she's lightyears from home and probably facing dishonorable discharge from the air force and everything is just. A mess.

She's sulking in a bar, trying to decide if the alien beverage she's ordered is safe for humans to drink when she sees a raccoon that appears to be about to get into a fight with someone about twelve times his size and still mouthing off.

She pushes herself out of her seat and strides over, shoving the muscle-bound lunk across the room with a flick of her fingers. She remembers Mar-Vell's stories. There's really only one guy this raccoon can be.]

Hey. Rocky, right?

[beatupgrass]

[Instinctively, Rocket's ears flatten and he cringes, a combination of two things causing this irritation:

(1. He did not need to be saved by this blonde broad and her magic fingers.

(2. Rocky?!]

Rocket. [he hops off his barstool, since all it was doing was giving him a height advantage over the thug he was threatening.] I had that under control, but, hey, now when somebody asks who started the barfight today, I can say "not me."

[if she's about to ask "what barfight?" the answer comes quickly enough. a tiny woman with phenomenal cosmic power is still a tiny woman to a bunch of muscley sexist men who are in no way here for this. Rocket's already pulling his gun off his back before Big Guy's rowdy friends have managed to do much more than kick their chairs back with infuriated growls.

Thugs are easy to predict. Loyal as hounds to their own and they can't strategize to save their lives. Rocket doesn't aim for them, but rather at the nice, rustic chandelier made out of the horns of some large beast. Someone probably thought it classed up the place. They really had this coming.

He shoots and the chandelier hits the thugs' table, effectively scattering them and Rocket wastes no time pointing at the woman who started all this.] She did it.

[airforceful]

I didn't ask if you had it under control. [Great. She really hoped aliens would be better than humans about this stuff. She sighs and turns away from Rocket.]

Gentlemen, you don't want to do this. Trust me. I don't want to hurt you.

[That was definitely the wrong thing to say, as they charge in ready to prove that they ain't afraid of no human woman. Or the right thing to say, since Carol, for all her words about not wanting to hurt anyone, takes a lot more satisfaction in punching the first guy across the room than strictly necessary. To Rocket, she says:]

Ever heard of Captain Mar-Vell? Kree guy?

[beatupgrass]

Heh. Not bad. [He blasts the legs out from under someone who decides Carol is not the person he wants to be fighting, which turns out to be his loss. Surprise! All the options here suck.]

I don't make it a point to associate with the Kree when I can help it, but sure. I heard of 'em. He does, uh... things with stuff, probably. [Rocket pays attention to a lot of things, but mostly only in criminal spheres. At first, it was because he was one, and now it's because, you know... Guardians of the Galaxy. Crime is their thing.] Why? You his errand girl?

[airforceful]

Cute. [Her fingers are tingling. Her powers are still new to her, but not so new that she doesn't know what that means. She raises her hands, sending out a blast of energy at two guys who think charging her's a good idea. Another guy shoots her straight on and she feels the way the energy sizzles and dissipates inside her. Cool.]

He's dead. And with him my ride back to Terra. [She sticks out a hand to catch a blast of energy heading for Rocket's head.] I heard your crew's got a human, though. And a space ship. Can you get me there?

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket's ears flatten when he watches her eat that laser fire and not even sweat it. He's pretty sure despite Terra having some weird as shit locals, they don't come in "bulletproof."]

Uh-huh. [he fires a shot without looking that knocks down the guy currently as dumbfounded as Rocket about the energy absorption as he is, but too stupid to react in a productive way. And now he has proof that he is not bulletproof right in the middle of his chest. Cool.]

Couple problems with that- Pete don't go back to Earth for nothing. Personal baggage. You understand, I'm sure.

[airforceful]

He doesn't have to come.

[She went for the human because it's a point of commonality, but it's not like she knows him. If the raccoon can get her back, she's okay with the raccoon being the one who takes her.

She sends another wave of energy at one of the last two guys, then just... gives the last guy a look. He suddenly decides he isn't paid enough to be a sexist jerk and flees. She turns towards Rocket.]

I never meant to be away this long. I'm worried my cat's going to start murdering people.

[beatupgrass]

That sounds like a personal problem between you and your cat. [He shoulders his gun, looking quite pleased with the chaos as only a former mercenary can.] See, Quill would probably do you a favor if it were anywhere but Earth, free of charge, and no questions. Me? I like to have a little incentive.

slams in here with infinity war spoilers

[nostalgiabomb]

[ "He did it."

The words echo in Peter's ears as they stand on Titan, the wind howling and kicking up dust as they stood in abject silence. The ash of what used to be Mantis still clings to Peter's hands, his jacket, and in his mind's eye, he can still see how Drax looked at him as he went. Like Peter had answers. Like Peter might be able to help him.

Peter does his best to gather what's left of Mantis, cupping it in his hands.

The kid is gone. So is the wizard. And Stark looks every bit as empty as Peter feels.

He's not sure if he's ever experienced a loss as catastrophic as this. Over the thirty-eight years of his existence, life had a funny way of kicking him in the balls, sure. Sometimes repeatedly. And sometimes with gusto. But never like this. It had never beaten him to a bloody, broken pulp and spat on his body like it had today, and a part of him wonders if even the universe is surprised at the ferocity with which it destroyed him. And usually, when bad shit like this happens (even four years after the mess with Ronan), Peter would feel a strong compulsion to run. To escape his problems. To run and run and run until whatever he's fleeing from is only a tiny speck on the horizon.

But right now? He's frozen to the spot. Because where the hell else is there to go?

What the hell is even left?

It's Nebula that snaps him and Stark out of it. It's Nebula who tells them to suck it up. That their job isn't over. Thanos is still out there, still has that fucking gauntlet, and if they're still alive, they haven't yet lost.

(But they have. Man, they have. All of them. Their homes, their families, normal lives—)

"Quill." And Peter drags his gaze from his hands to Nebula, who's watching him in a mixture of disgust and understanding. "Where is your ship?"



They limp onto the Benatar and make the trip to Earth in near complete silence. (And it fucking hurts. It's been years since Peter's been on a ship this quiet. The Guardians were always making noise, even when he didn't want them to. Shouting. Laughing. Arguing.

God, he's really never going to see any of them again, is he?)

There's nowhere else to go, really, aside from Earth. Of the three of them, Stark is the only one who still has a place to return to – assuming there's anything left, anyway. Earth had housed two of the Infinity Stones; who was to say Thanos hadn't simply destroyed it for being an obstacle in his path?

But it's there. Big and blue and green, just like how it had looked in Peter's text books. Peter didn't get to see the planet from far away like this, when he left. He had been stuffed into a supply room to scream and rage before a Ravager managed to subdue him and get a translator chip injected into his neck. So this? Should have been a nice sight, and it should have made him smile with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia. But it's not, and it doesn't. It just makes something cold and ugly twist in Peter's stomach.

And when they reach the planet, Peter's not sure how, but they get directed to Wakanda. They touch down on the scene of a slaughter and nearly get skewered as they file out of the ship by warriors demanding whether they were friend or foe.

It's hazy, but Peter's pretty sure Stark steps in, then. Plays the Avenger card and gets Peter and Nebula admitted as his plus ones.

Peter's homecoming to Earth isn't much of a homecoming, really. It's a wake. It's a funeral procession. Everyone is in mourning, and Peter can't blame them, considering he's in the same boat. He's lost everyone. Everything. Or at least, he thinks he has. But as they're admitted into the headquarters – or was it the Citadel? or the Palace? Peter didn't really care to hear which – wandering the halls, a flash of movement catches his eye.

He pauses. Turns. And for the first time since since this whole fucking mess started, he feels the quietest inklings of relief. ]

Rocket?

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket had, at one point, a small entourage of Dora Milaje following at his heels out of necessity because, left to his own devices, his grief was channeled immediately into storming into the remnants of Shuri's lab and trying to hunt down Thanos with whatever he could tear apart and make work for his purposes.

That couldn't be allowed, of course, especially with Shuri recovering from her wounds and not able to supervise, hence the constant guard. But when the ship arrived, they needed all hands on deck, and Rocket was left considering whether or not he could get back into the lab before anyone caught him.

And then he sees Quill, and his heart leaps into his throat. He thought he was alone, trapped on this unfamiliar planet, adrift and, like Thor, convinced that all he had was a vengeance fate. But here's Quill, dirty and battered, but here.

He runs to him without hesitation, eyes wide, stopping just shy of hitting his legs and collecting himself, like part of him wanted to go in for the hug and then caught himself. When he speaks, his voice is shaky, even when the words are sardonic. He's shell-shocked, still, which is probably the only reason he submitted to having a guard on him at all.]

This doesn't happen all that often, but, man... I am so glad to see you.

[nostalgiabomb]

Yeah. Ditto.

[ But he sounds more dazed than anything, like he’s not entirely sure if he wants to commit to believing that Rocket might actually be here.

Everything since Titan has felt like a dream. Nothing’s felt real. And after that pure, ugly surge of rage and sadness when he found out— when he realized that— when he heard that Gamora—

—when he figured out what Thanos had done, ever since then he’s just felt empty. Like someone scooped out his insides and left them to rot in the dirt.

His hand hovers near Rocket, like he wants to rest his palm between the guy’s ears, but he’s not sure if it’s welcome, not sure if he wants to tempt fate. (What if Rocket crumbles to ash beneath his touch? Mantis had.) He swallows thickly, lifting his head and looking around, but—

His breath escapes him like he’s been punched in the gut. That hollowness in his chest yawns wider, and with no small amount of dread, he asks, ]

Where’s Groot?

[beatupgrass]

[Every muscle in Rocket's body locks up in anxiety and he quickly turns his gaze away, scrunching his eyes shut so he doesn't start sobbing again. It was embarrassing the first time when the shock finally left him free to have actual emotions about watching another Groot die right in front of him.]

He just... They all just... [He keeps having to pause and swallow, but it doesn't help the knot forming in his throat.] He was just gone. He was just a kid.

[Some part of Rocket, even knowing that he'd rather survive than not, feels there's a certain unfairness to it. He should have died. His life expectancy being what it is, he might have another ten years in him, but Groot could live forever if allowed to. It's not fair.]

He just snapped his fingers and- I didn't think Gamora was bein' literal. [He's stammering now, and he can't bring himself to ask where Gamora is or Mantis or Drax, because he knows the answer already. They're the only two left.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ ... Fuck.

It’s funny. Leaving Titan, Peter was already certain that he was the only one of the Guardians left. He doesn’t know why he thought that, but— the idea had still slammed into him like a Mack truck.

“It’s just me. I’m all that’s left.”

So seeing Rocket— that was a pleasant surprise. And for a few seconds, there, he had let himself hope.

Stupid of him, really. You’d think after thirty years in space, after letting life kick him while he’s down over and over and over, he’d learn not to expect too much. He feels the loss all over again. A stab straight through the gut.

He flinches bodily at the mention of Gamora, his throat closing up and eyes stinging, but he shoves that sadness away. It already took him over once like a horrible, ravenous flame. His mind had been consumed with what-ifs the entire flight to Earth. What if he hadn’t lost it? What if he had kept his cool? What if they wrenched the gauntlet from that giant scrotum-headed bastard’s hand?

Could they have won if Peter hadn’t been swept away by grief?

Maybe. Maybe not. Thanos was powerful as fuck on his own, and none of them knew how to use the gauntlet. There was every chance Thanos would have just wrested it back and slaughtered them all, then and there, instead of playing with them like a cat with a mouse, as he had been. But Peter will never know, and the uncertainty of it will probably haunt him for what little is left of his life. ]

Rocket.

[ His voice is unnaturally calm, unnaturally empty. He’s drained. Exhausted. But Rocket is spiraling in a way that’s all too familiar, and Peter would be right there with him, honestly, except—

He has nothing left, really. He’s not sure if he’s ever felt this numb.

For a second, Peter just— stands there, uncertain. But then he kneels, then he hesitates.

Then he pulls Rocket into a hug. ]

[beatupgrass]

[The all-encompassing urge to draw back and punch Peter in the side of the head makes Rocket's tiny body tense up and for a moment there's this brief moment of resistance. Drax dealt with this once when he'd petted him back on Xandar, but like that moment, Rocket just gives into it. He doesn't hug back, just goes limp against Peter's chest and tries not to ugly cry into his jacket like a toddler.

In order to avoid crying, he just grits his teeth and mutters what borders on incoherent through a combination of his thick accent and his rage and grief.]

I'm gonna rip that stupid gauntlet off his hand, plant a bomb in it, shove it up his fat purple ass, and then detonate it, and then- [he sucks in a breath]- then I'm gonna get really violent.

[Honestly, given Rocket plunged violently at an infinity stone wielding Ronan without thinking, it's pretty clear he means every word of it. So this is what Thor felt like.

It sucks.

But the only thing he knows to do is stop Thanos entirely. If they have to die or be left behind to pick up the pieces, then so be it, but that purple asshole cannot be allowed to live.]

[nostalgiabomb]

Yeah.

[ And maybe this is the part where Peter should tell Rocket to get it together, that he needs to focus up, that they have a whole lot planning to do if they’re going to seriously take down the Mad Titan, or whatever bullshit name the guy goes by.

He doesn’t, though. Why the hell would he? Peter’s grieving just as much, feels the loss of their team just as keenly. A sense of failure festers and grows in his chest, and he’s only a stone’s throw away from completely hopeless. But Rocket’s bitterness, his anger—

Weirdly? It helps. If only a little.

He waits a few more seconds, lets Rocket get whatever ranting he needs to out of his system. There’s probably more of it caged up and waiting, probably months’ worth, if they’re both honest, but it won’t help right now. Peter pulls back, his hand dwarfing Rocket’s shoulder. ]

What the hell are you even doing here?

[ what happened to the magic mythical forge he was so excited about seeing? ]

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket runs a hand over his nose, sniffling. His eyes are a little watery around the edges, soaking into the fur, and for all his threats and posturing, he does not look like he'd be able to commit to his words without shattering. But Thanos isn't here, and if he were, then it would be a different story.

It takes another few sniffs and swallowing lumps in his throat before he can get anything out.]

Thor got his frickin' hammer. He just... opened that Bifrost thing- it's Asgardian crap don't worry about it- and we ended up here midway through a fight with millions of Thanos's stupid attack dogs. Then Thanos showed up, mowed down everybody, got that last stone, and... That was the last I knew before everyone started vanishing.