Post by Drake on Jul 9, 2014 16:09:45 GMT -5
#3: More Than Meets the Eye Part 3
Prisoner X
By Drake
Rocket was the last to sit down at breakfast that morning, three days after the plan had first been set. They’d had to wait an extra day because he needed more time to build Jack Flag’s cuff “key,” as well as finish a small side project he had been working on.
“So, boys and girls, how’re things?” Rocket sat his tray down gently and began to haphazardly dig in.
“Absolutely wonderful,” Jack was the first to speak up. He had the same wide grin on his face that he always seemed to have since he’d first arrived at the prison ship. Rocket was not a fan of him. He was too weird, which was saying something for Rocket and co.
“Nobody asked you,” Rocket grumbled.
“Actually, you did—“
“No, you were just sitting here and happened to hear me ask the others—“
“What is your deal with me--?”
“You’re a freak.”
“I’m a freak?? Well, sorry I’m not a talking furball.”
“Nobody’s perfect.”
“Rocket!” Peter interrupted, “Enough. Today’s the day. Get ready, folks.”
“Oh, I’m ready,” Rocket pulled something from out of his jumpsuit. It was a small metal cylinder.
“Oh my God! Is that a bomb?” Heather whispered worriedly.
“What? No. It’s a light switch,” Rocket said, juggling the device.
“A light switch?” Peter inquired.
“Yeah, turns the lights on and off,” Rocket caught the switch one last time, “What else does a light switch do?”
“Yer talkin’ these lights?” Kress pointed up to the neon yellow lights built into the ceiling.
“Nope, I’m talkin’ the ones in your head that make thinking hard,” Rocket sarcastically said, “Figure’d we could use a little more of a distraction on the way out.”
“That’s…actually a really good idea,” Peter admitted, before standing up, tray in hand, “Alright, Rocket. Get that thing ready. I’m going to toss my food.”
“Hey, Peter, wait for me!” Heather said, jumping out of her seat, “I need to talk to you.”
Peter slowed down enough to let Heather catch up. The two began the walk to the trashcan, taking their time.
“If you’re about to confess your undying love for me, save it. I’m not into serious relationships,” Peter joked.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Heather teased, “You aren’t my type.”
“And what is your type?” Peter wondered.
“That doesn’t really matter now. I just came over here to thank you. We might actually get out of here because of you,” Heather said.
“Actually, Rocket came up with most of the plan, but yeah, you’re welcome,” Peter replied.
“Well, I’ll make sure to thank Rocket later,” Heather and Peter neared the trashcan.
“Oh God, please tell me he’s not your type…” Peter grumbled.
Heather laughed. “Nope. He’s not.” She admitted, before continuing, “Listen, Peter, I also wanted to ask you something.” They dumped their trash.
“Ask away.”
Heather nodded, “Why did you trust me? I mean, we only knew each other a few minutes and the next thing I knew you were asking me to join in on your crazy plan.”
“Rocket’s crazy plan,” Peter corrected, before saying, “But…truth is—God, I don’t really talk about personal stuff a lot.” Peter took a deep breath, looked Heather in the eyes and decided to continue, “I don’t know where I’m from.”
“Kress told me that.”
“Yeah, I…I just…when I saw you, I saw a little of myself too. Not like metaphorically, just…genetically. You’re about what I imagine a female me—my species, I mean—would look like. Then when you said you came from Earth, somewhere I’d never even heard of—which means it isn’t a part of the Spartoi or any other empires—I figured there was a chance that’s where my past might lie. I’ve been looking for years, and I may have finally found my home: Earth.”
“It’s funny you say that,” Heather said, “Because in a lot of ways, I’m trying to escape Earth. I never belonged there. That’s part of the reason I took the space mission that landed me here.”
“The rest being that you’re looking for your father,” Peter finished.
“Yep.”
“Well, we have that in common,” Peter rubbed the back of his head embarrassedly, “I’m looking for my dad too. Only thing is, I don’t know who he is or what he looks like.”
“Well, once we get out of here, we can look together,” Heather smiled, reassuring Peter that he’d made the right decision all those days ago in trusting her.
“Yeah, we can,” Peter agreed. The two finally arrived back at the table. They sat down. Their rather happy energy was instantly killed by the tense atmosphere at the table. Rocket and Jack sat glaring at each other. Kress glared at both of them in turn.
“So, are you guys ready? We’ve gotta start soon. Breakfast is ending,” Peter said.
Rocket continued to glare at Jack as he spoke, “Ready as can be.”
“Same here,” Jack said without missing a beat.
“Right…” Peter muttered, “I’m liking our chances less by the minute.”
“I’m liking Military here less by the minute,” Rocket grumbled.
“Same could be said for you, furball,” Jack retorted, “And I was never in the military.”
“Really? Coulda fooled me with the stick up your—“
“Rocket!” Peter quelled. Heather put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Her fellow astronaut reluctantly turned away.
“Let’s get started,” he said. Heather nodded.
“Alright, Rocket,” Peter turned to his furry friend, “How long will your switch last?”
“How long do you need?” Rocket retorted.
“Fair enough,” Peter turned to the others, “It’s game time then in three…two…” everyone slid their unlocked hands over to the device on their cuffs, “one.”
The lights shot off. At about the same time, each of the group’s cuffs switched off as well. Prisoners stood up. Shouts echoed across the open cafeteria in a dozen languages. Guards looked around, guns at the ready.
“Nobody move!” one of the guards shouted.
The group stood up and began to approach a door to the left of the room. There were three guards at that door, the fewest of any, which was stupid considering it opened to a hallway that led directly to the control room.
“Hands up, prisoners! Back off!” One of the guards had spotted them, signaling the others.
Rocket silently cursed to himself. They had night vision in their helmets. The group continued to creep forward, now only a dozen yards from the guards.
“I will shoot you in—three, two…”
“Go,” Rocket ordered. He lunged for one guard. Peter tackled another, and Kress got the last. Peter’s guard was the only one that managed to fire his gun, but it simply recoiled off the wall behind him and into the ceiling. Peter slugged the guy a few times before knocking him out.
Meanwhile, Rocket crawled around his guard as the man tried to grab ahold of the raccoon to throw him off. The anthropomorphized animal clawed at him before grabbing his gun, leaping off and firing it, killing the guard. That was about the same time Peter’s guard fired. Prisoners began to shout louder. Guards ran towards the gunshots.
“Go, Quill!” Kress shouted as she knocked her guard out by slamming his head into the ground, “Ge’ to the control room! We’ve go’ this!”
Peter nodded his head, took his unconscious guard’s rifle and keycard, unlocked the door and ran through.
“Shouldn’t we go with him?” Heather wondered, suddenly doubtful.
“Of course now you decide to doubt the plan!” Rocket exclaimed, “Can’t worry about it now, babe. We gotta keep any extra guards from reaching Pete.” Rocket, Heather, Jack and Kress—who now held a rifle—ducked outside the room and beside the door just as guards made it within gunshot-range. Kress and Rocket stood just by the door, while Heather and Jack stood on their respective sides.
Rocket quickly looked out the doorway. He ducked back.
“Six or seven guards in range, and approaching fast. A dozen or more aren’t too far behind. Prisoners are backing off. We’re on our own until Peter turns their handcuffs off.” Rocket explained. He looked over towards Heather and Kress. “Anything happens to me, someone’s gotta take this gun and keep shooting.”
“Rocket, you aren’t thinking of doing anything stupid?” Heather asked.
“Hell no!” Rocket retorted, “I’m just saying in case things go wrong…”
And they did. A faint patter signaled the change of favor. A small device had been rolled through the doorway.
“Grenade!” Rocket yelled. He and Jack dived away down a hallway to the left of the door. Heather and Kress had nowhere to turn as they were jammed against a wall. Kress wrapped her arms around Heather as the human woman screamed.
BOOM!
The smoke cleared within a few seconds. Two guards burst through the hallway, but Rocket, lying on his back, gunned them down.
Across the doorway, Kress was lying over Heather, unmoving. Heather felt a thick liquid drip onto her chest. No. Nononononono! Heather tapped Kress, but the alien woman just fell off of her, bloodied and broken.
“No!” Heather knelt over her fallen comrade, “Kress, wake up! WAKE UP!”
“Grab the d’ast gun!” Rocket ordered as another guard came through the door. He shot the Spartoian down. Heather shuddered as she realized she had no choice. She picked up Kress’ rifle and knelt against the doorway.
“Get over here, unless you’d like being in a hundred pieces!” Rocket said. Heather nodded. She took one deep breath before diving across the doorway. Bullets flew past her, but she made it unscathed to Rocket and Jack.
“Give me the gun!” Jack said as Heather got to him. Another grenade was tossed through the doorway, but it wasn’t near them. It went off without a hitch. Heather’s ears rang as she responded.
“No, I can shoot. Can you?”
“I…no, I never learned,” Jack admitted.
“Well I did,” Heather said, “Alien guns can’t be too different from human ones, right? Just point…”
A guard burst through the doorway. Heather instinctively fired, hitting the guard straight in the neck twice.
“And shoot,” Heather muttered, mouth agape.
“Nice shot,” Rocket congratulated. Heather leaned over and threw up next to him. “Oh that ain’t pretty,” he grumbled.
Heather stood back up, wiping her mouth, “I’ve never killed anyone before.”
“Neither’ve I,” Rocket replied.
“What? There’s no way…”
“It ain’t a lie. I’m not a killer…not till now, anyway,” Rocket admitted, “Always liked guns however.”
“Well you—“
“Sh!” Rocket quieted Heather and pointed to the doorway, “You hear that?” Heather leaned in to listen.
“What? What is it?” Jack asked.
“I can’t hear anything,” Heather admitted. She’d been partially deafened by the explosives.
Rocket grinned, an expression that freaked the hell out of Heather, “That’s screamin’. The prisoners are free. Peter did it.”
---GotG---
Peter Quill stood over four Spartoi technicians’ bodies. He’d done it. It had taken ten or so corpses, but he’d reached the control room and turned off the prisoners’ collars. Now, he had a new mission.
Peter reached down and picked up two of the technicians’ pistols. His rifle was out of ammo. He had to actually beat the last Spartoian to unconsciousness with the gun.
His new mission—get to and refuel Milago. But before then? Peter needed to grab a few things.
---GotG---
“Ma’am,” a Spartoi soldier turned from his station in the monitor room to face a woman cloaked in green. Her face was shrouded by a hood. “The group of prisoners that started this mess—well, all of them except for one—are headed for…it looks like the Level Five cells. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think they’re going to free Prisoner X.”
The hooded woman quite literally growled, “I will take care of them. Send all available men to hunt down that other man…Peter Quill.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the Spartoian turned back to his position briefly, before looking back at the hooded woman, “But ma’am?”
“Yes?” the woman hissed.
“Are the rumors about Prisoner X true? I mean, if he gets out…”
The woman didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to the door and left the room without a word.
---GotG---
Peter put on the last piece of his clothing—his red jacket, before grabbing his guns, slinging a bag of clothing over his shoulder and leaving the storage room. He silently wondered how the others were doing, but he couldn’t think about that now. No matter what, he had to get out of there. Milago needed him. And almost as important, he had to make the son of a garnag who’d screwed him over pay.
Peter jogged out into the hallway. Down in a T-shaped intersection, guards ran past. He dived inside an open door, a janitor’s closet, to hide only to find the closet wasn’t empty. A green-skinned man with tentacles covering his mouth stood and stared at Peter, eyes wide.
“Shh….” Peter put a finger over the man’s tentacles. The man tried to speak up, but Peter silenced him by pointing to his guns.
“We got an understanding?” Peter whispered. The man nodded, now shaking.
“Thought so,” Peter grinned rogueishly. He peaked outside the doorway to find the hallway clear and jogged away. He figured he didn’t have long before someone caught him on the cameras and sent a squadron after him.
In fact, as Peter found out, he didn’t have long at all. As soon as he reached the T-shaped intersection, four guards greeted him.
“Oh, uh, hey, guys. How’s your day coming al—“
The Spartoi lifted their guns up and fired. Peter slid down in between them and fired at one after another, using only two shots from each of his Kree Roguekillers to do the job. He stood back up and surveyed his handiwork.
“Not bad…” Peter muttered, before running off again.
---GotG---
Rocket and the others were now sprinting down a hallway past the aisles of Level Four cells. Halfway down the aisle, they were stopped as a woman walked out from behind a machine.
The green hooded woman grinned wickedly, exposing pearly white teeth, “Sorry, your little adventure is over.”
The woman removed her hood to reveal a green face, even darker long green hair, and plan white eyes surrounded by yellow ovals. Heather thought her freakish smile looked even scarier now that her empty eyes were exposed. The woman was dressed in slightly revealing gold, tan and green armor and leggings, and a longsword decorated with a skull at its hilt hung at her side on a belt. The woman drew her sword.
“You’re her, aren’t you?” Rocket grumbled, raising his rifle, “You’re the one everyone’s scared of…The Most Dangerous Woman in the Galaxy.”
“Gamora,” the woman agreed.
“Well, Gamora, meet the Most Dangerous Person in the Galaxy.” Rocket grinned and cocked his gun, “Me.” Heather kept herself from pointing out that he hadn’t killed anyone until today.
Gamora laughed heartily, unsettling Heather. “You? A talking animal? The Mo—“
“You pressed the wrong buttons today, beautiful,” Rocket muttered, firing his rifle.
Faster than Heather could see, Gamora reacted. She rolled away and came up swinging. If Heather didn’t know any better, she’d thought she saw Gamora cut a bullet in half on her way up.
The assassin dived for Rocket. The raccoon kept on firing, but Gamora either dodged the bullets or blocked them with her sword. She swung down at Rocket’s neck, but he dived away, still firing. However, unluckily for him, the bullets stopped coming.
“Out of ammo?? Now??” Rocket exclaimed, already diving away from another of Gamora’s attacks. “Shoot her, you dumb krutackers!” He yelled as he ran away from the assassin.
Heather aimed down her sights. Right as she did so, Gamora turned to her. Their eyes met, and it was enough to cause Heather to freeze. Gamora used this opportunity to strike. She swung down at Heather.
The blow never came. Not to Heather, anyway.
Jack Flag stood in front of her, arms held out protectively, the sword stuck in his shoulder. Heather’s eyes went wide with shock. No…
Gamora pulled the blade out from Jack just as Rocket leaped onto her and began scratching at her face. The woman cursed at the raccoon in half a dozen languages.
Meanwhile, Jack fell to the ground, blood leaking out from the wound like a fountain. Heather was frozen in place. Jack’s eyes slowly met Heather’s. He tried a smile.
“Go…” was all he managed before his eyes shut and he fainted.
Heather didn’t hesitate now. First Kress, and now Jack, her last remaining ally from home on Earth. She was done freaking out now. Heather looked up at Gamora as she threw Rocket off of her and into the ground at her feet. She held up her sword to strike.
That bitch had to pay.
Heather fired, piercing Gamora in the shoulder. The assassin reacted before Heather could shoot her again, blocking and dodging the rest of her shots.
“Rocket! Come on!” Heather shouted, already running down the hallway. Rocket scrambled up and after Heather as the human pushed Gamora back with gunfire. The other woman was slower now that she was wounded. She couldn’t run and defend herself at the same time.
Heather took one last shot and then sprinted down the hallway. Twenty yards down they threw open a door. It led to an open room with three large cells wrought in a metal Heather couldn’t identify. The cells were blocked off, hidden so that you couldn’t see or hear the occupant inside. Rocket approached the one in the center and began swiping frantically at the door with a guard’s keycard.
“It won’t work!” Rocket exclaimed. Heather kept her eyes peeled on the doorway, aiming down her sight.
“Then open it some other way!” Heather said. Rocket nodded and looked the thing over.
“Yeah, I’ve got a solution,” Rocket stated, nodding.
“Well do it fast!” Heather demanded. She could see Gamora looking through the glass panel on the door.
“Give me the gun,” Rocket said.
“What?”
“Give me the gun now!”
Heather tossed Rocket her rifle. He caught it effortlessly and turned back to the cell door. Without another word, Rocket unloaded onto the cell’s key panel. Heather gasped.
“Your solution was to shoot the lock??” He couldn’t actually think it was gonna work…
Click.
Rocket tossed Heather the gun again. She struggled to catch it, in awe at the uncanny success of Rocket Raccoon. The anthropomorphic animal pulled the lever on the door and opened it. Here he was…Prisoner X…if the rumors were true… Heather gulped.
She didn’t have time to look at the occupant of the cell, however, as Gamora was now sprinting towards her, screaming, sword raised. Heather turned and fired, but the gun just clicked in response. It was jammed!
“No! No no no no!” Heather backed up a few feet, but fell onto the ground. Gamora leaned over her, but didn’t deliver the finishing blow. She was too busy looking up at the hulking beast standing by Rocket.
Heather looked up. The thing was massive, a humanoid hunk of tree. It had beady black eyes that Heather thought would make it look cute if it didn’t look so damn angry. Who the hell was this guy?
“I am Groot,” the tree man grunted, swinging his massive wood hand at Gamora. The assassin rolled out of the way. Heather stood up and was surprised to find the tree-man, Groot, pushing her gently behind him to protect her.
“A tree? Really?” Heather exclaimed.
Rocket grinned, “I know, right? The only thing more bad ass than Groot is me.”
The alien took to proving Rocket’s words. He charged Gamora, shouting, “I AM GROOT!”
The assassin dodged his first strike and cut his right arm, but she couldn’t avoid the next. He knocked her into the wall. Her head slammed against it, and she shuddered as she hit the ground.
“Oh, that’s something you should know. He only says ‘I am Groot,’” Rocket explained, “It’s something to do with his dialect being too complicated and advanced for our ears. Or your ears, rather. I can hear him just fine. Gotta be the cybernetic enhancements.”
“I am Groot,” the tree-man stood over Gamora threateningly. The woman wasn’t unconscious. She glared at Groot, her eyes bleeding anger.
“You can understand him?” Heather asked.
“Yeah. Right now he’s threatening Gamora,” Rocket said.
“I can tell that!”
Groot took hold of Gamora and lifted her up. The assassin struggled in his grip. Heather and Rocket approached the two; Rocket was grinning wildly.
“Most Dangerous my ass,” Rocket quipped as he left the room. Heather shuddered as Groot threw Gamora into the wall again with a smack. The assassin slumped to the floor, now unconscious. Groot followed just behind the two others. Heather tried to stay a few steps ahead, in case Rocket’s assumption was wrong and Groot went on a rampage.
As if reading her mind, Rocket spoke up, “Groot and I met a while ago. We were cruising through the galaxy together, stealing to survive. The guy didn’t actually do anything worse than keeping me safe and hurting a few cops. The whole Level Five prisoner thing is nonsense. It’s only cause he’s nearly indestructible.”
“Indestructible?” Heather said.
“Well, he can regenerate, and he is tougher than most people,” Rocket nodded, “So, yeah, indestructible.”
Heather just walked on, absorbing it all. Rocket wouldn’t have the silence.
“He can protect us while we get to the dock,” Rocket explained. As if to prove the point, when two guards turned around the corner to them, Groot slammed them into the wall, instantly knocking them unconscious.
“See?” Rocket grinned, patting Groot on the leg, “Nice job, Groot, old buddy, old tree.”
“I am Groot,” replied Groot.
It didn’t take long to find the ship dock. It took even less time inside the dock to find Peter and his ship, Milago.
Gunshots rang through the expansive room as Peter crouched in Milago’s hatch. A long black tube ran from somewhere outside the ship to inside the hatch. Any guard that tried to mess with it got shot by Peter. Anytime Peter tried to make a move out, the guards would shoot at him. It was a never-ending cycle, and no one was getting anywhere.
That is, until Groot joined the fray.
It didn’t take long for Groot to knock out all dozen or so guards. By the time he was done, Groot was covered in bullet holes. Within a few seconds, however, the bullet holes healed over. Peter motioned the group inside, staring at Groot as he marched in.
“Is he--?”
“Yes,” Heather admitted, passing Peter.
“And the others?” Peter asked. The look Rocket gave him on his way in was all the answer he needed. He looked at the bottom of his ship sadly, as the last of the cadatronium fuel was pushed through the tube into the tank. Half a minute later, Peter had cleared the tube from Milago and was sitting in the pilot’s chair. Heather, Rocket, and Groot sat behind him on a variety of boxes.
“We’ve got pilots loading up behind us, but something’s wrong…no…they’re gonna let us go. Weird,” Peter warily turned on Milago as the ship’s AI spoke up, explaining all the percentages and activity inside the ship. A metal appendage protruded from a wall panel and dropped an ancient pistol onto Heather’s lap as the ship lifted into the air.
“That’s important. Keep it safe,” Peter said.
“Really? An antique laser gun? I can buy one ‘a those in Granny Glarfog’s shop,” Rocket quipped.
“Just trust me,” Peter said. Heather silently nodded in response.
“I’m hacking into their launch terminal now,” Milago explained, “The doors are opening…”
Within seconds the large doors were sliding open. Peter carefully led his ship over other stored aircrafts and into space.
“Mil, hit the hyper jets. We’re going warp speed,” Peter said.
Slowly, Milago lurched forward and the stars went from glowing balls in the distance to blinding lines around them. Heather smiled.
They were free. They were really, truly, finally free.
“Cowabunga!” Rocket cried out.
---GotG---
Back many lightyears, the SES R-Son was burning. It began with the prisoners, but it ended when the Kree arrived. One ship half the size of the prison ship was latched onto its back. Its dark gray panels gave away the ship’s pilots and the R-Son’s destroyers—the Kree military.
An enormous man, nearly eight feet tall, with blue skin and piercing green eyes walked slowly back onto his ship. He wore thick black armor, and an almost hood-like helmet. A large staff with a gigantic hammer on its end hung limply in his right hand.
The Kree man was followed shortly after by Gamora, whose wound had now healed. Her head still ached, however. She massaged it as she spoke up.
“This was my jurisdiction! You could have ruined the mission!” Gamora growled.
“Silence! The mission was already botched! The Quill man escaped with the Gun, and you failed to eliminate any of his allies!” the Kree roared.
Gamora shook her head, “You know that isn’t true. I saw you had the male Terran lifted into your ship, and the body of a Kronan woman who allied herself with Quill can be found in the cafeteria.”
“The Terran is still alive,” The enormous Kree stated, “And if I am not mistaken by the camera footage, he was the only one you personally engaged with and damaged.”
“Yes, but there was the man-monster from Planet X! He—“
“Enough!” the Kree turned abruptly to Gamora, “You failed our master.”
“Your coming jeopardized more than just my mission!” Gamora argued, “If the Spartoi sent out a message before you took the ship…”
“I assure you, Spartax will not be alerted of our attacks. All evidence burns with the ship, including the prisoners,” the Kree finished as three Kree soldiers executed prisoners in front of the Dark Aster, the enormous starship.
“Now,” the Kree turned back towards his ship, “you were telling me earlier of Quill’s allies. There was the Terran, the monster from Planet X, and…?”
“A cyborg from the Keystone Quadrant.”
“Ah,” the Kree nodded, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to teach them a lesson...or give them a warning, rather.”
“No one escapes Ronan the Accuser.”