It's rude to reject gifts
Golden lights beam upon golden floors, white carpet along the sides of the walkway.
Her heels let out a satisfying, rhythmical 'click clack' as she takes one step after another. The black shoes, with traced diamond shapes of gold along the lower edge, are made of only the highest quality material, which leads right up into her perfectly matching leggings, elegant golden stitching running up the sides of her legs.
The same rings true of the elegant, wavey and oceanic waist piece, dangling from her hips, and trailing behind her like flowing whitewater rapids. A warm yellowed orange color. It gave the silhouette of a dress without the impracticality.
She wore a wide shouldered short-jacket, cropped just below her bust, a darker orange in hue, not to the extent of being browned. It had elegant white accents, and the buckles on it were black, to lead the color of the lower body up into the torso. The long sleeves were wide at the end, to give more power to her silhouette.
Underneath, she wore a silky shirt, soft and frayed at the end to blend into the hip piece, in a soothing white color, that changed in a slow gradient, down to the same yellow as the hip piece.
Her black hair, with light pink streaks, was worn down today, waves flowing similarly to her hip piece, completing the main silhouette of the outfit. It made her look beautiful, and elegant, while the sharper shapes of her heels and jacket showed her power, and refinement.
She also had two flower earrings, gorgeous and intricately detailed, and of course made of gold.
Her pale white skin and intricate eyeliner, with bits of golden glitter, and slight yellow underlines emphasized her naturally red-orange eyes.
It all came together to make her look like the goddess of fortune she was, in many's eyes.
And she was not a happy goddess today.
She walked with duty, along the golden pathway. White carpet on the sides, hundreds of games, machines, and stations serving all variety of things aglow, loudly clacking, clanging, dinging, buzzing.
Checks and Chips and Units clattering onto tables.
Dealers calling to their managers for all manner of things. Approval for bets or breakdowns, or to check supposed cheating.
Normally she'd be hard at work managing it all, as well. She'd invested a lot into the Casino Cosmica, after all.
However today, the Profiteer was interrupted from any work.
Her annoying pest of a brother was visiting.
And he'd requested she come see what he's brought her. Another gift.
If it was anything as valuable as the Flora Colossus, she might not mind the intrusion upon her schedule, but if it was ANYTHING less valuable, she'd have him shot.
She smiles to herself imagining that.
He'd probably live, obviously. They were of a stronger breed.
She keeps walking, shaking her head to herself.
There was a lot to do today, she'd get this done and be finished with it.
She finally reaches the elevator, stepping into the elegant golden cylinder, windows looking out over the city-sized casino.
She smiled to herself, looking at the rainbow of lights around her, outside. She remembers what a mess it'd all been when she'd first acquired it from the Grandmaster. He had thought he could beat her in a game of wits. The fool.
She grins as she pictures the trashy joint it'd once been, and looks at the elegant city of depravity. Thought of the trillions of units she's made since taking it over.
Turns out she was a gambling woman.
The elevator moves silently. You can't even hear the mechanisms. It's the height of luxury. Carrying her higher, to the docking level.
The city disappears behind a wall of various generators, shields, barriers, and thick metal, which keeps the interior safe from the dangers of outer space, should something ever happen. A solar flare, a gravity abnormality, the docking bay shiels faltering, you name it.
Finally, she sees the stars, out beyond the docking bay.
The red sky, dense with cosmic dust. She could give the Grandmaster that, choosing to put the Casino Cosmica right in the shadow of the Grand Scar nebula, it was beautiful.
She steps out, looking at the twinkling orange and yellow stars in the distance, tainted by the nebula's composition.
It cast a red glow down upon everything, hence why she had chosen to plant so many white lights along the docking layer. The top of the casino. It counteracted the dreadful ominous feeling of the red light.
Sometimes, though, she almost wished she hadn't. She found beauty in brutality, and the red drenching light felt familiar.
She takes a breath.
It was cool out here, of course. Not many heaters out here, purposeful, rush people inside to spend their money.
She was clever like that, doing little things like that to manipulate her patrons.
She sighs, walking towards the Collector's ship, which she can see is parked rather illegally. It's in the middle of the walkway. She hates her d'ast brother.
She sees him waiting, grinning. Wearing an oversized, feathery white cloak, over his leathery over-strapped, over-belted mistake he calls an 'outfit'.
She approaches, keeping her eyes trained on him, though the crate next to him doesn't escape her notice.
She can also see a few cases of flowers. How classy. She would roll her eyes if she weren't so keen not to take them off of her brother, and his stupid smiling face.
"Collector." She states coldly. "How kind of you to illegally park yourself in the walkway of my docking field." She says with a blatantly sarcastic edge to her voice. She knows he won't care, but she will still shame him.
"Hello, sister!" He greets back with a sardonic flare to his voice. "I've brought you a gift, again. Always the gifter never the gifted, isn't that funny?"
"I give you gifts in the way of not having you chained and dropped into an ocean." The Profiteer remarks back with a grin of her own. "Or would you like something nicer?"
"Hah, if you consider that a gift, I'd can't imagine how you'd treat the people you don't love." The Collector smirks.
"You needn't imagine, you're already getting that treatment." She says with a roll of her eyes.
"Well, maybe we'll change that with this, hm?" The Collector asks, seeking her interest, no doubt.
She'll entertain it. "Very well, what've you brought me?"
"Presenting..." The Collector says with a grin.
He grins, stepping aside, and taking a glowing red stone from his breast pocket. The reality stone.
She might need to have that stolen later. But she'll pretend not to care at the moment.
The crate peels open, and inside, there's some pathetic little creature.
It's got dark brown fur, not dissimilar to the color of chocolate. There are lighter patches, and white patches.
It has shaved skin on it's back, and metal implants, strange...
It's currently unconscious, with the red glow of the reality stone around it's snout, and eyes. Likely in a hallucination of some sort. She knows the powers of the infinity stone, it's rather cruel, exactly why she wants it.
"Subject 89P13, is what it's registered name was, as far as I could find." The Collector speaks, "I thought it seemed like the kind of thing you'd be interested in, a cute little thing. Women enjoy things like that, don't they~?" He teases.
She silently glares at him, glancing to the creature again. "Why keep it unconscious?" She notices the destroyed side of the crate, bite marks and claw scrapes.
"Scared of it?" She taunts him.
"Pah, abandon the thought." The Collector says, with a fake sounding chuckle. "I'm just having fun with a new toy."
"The stone, or the creature?" She says with a grin.
"The creature is your toy, Sister. I needn't another." He waves his hand. "At least, not another mammal, right now."
She rolled her eyes. This was some sort of scheme, or prank. The creature was likely dangerous, or a bomb. Something like that. Collector wanted her to get bored of it, and then she'd give it right to him, that's what he always liked to do. He'd wanted it to happen with the flora colossus, and she knew he was still upset she kept it. "Very well. Have it sent to my suite." She orders to a nearby worker. The poor sod having been forced to work the docks, along with several dozen more workers. She didn't particularly care, obviously, but she rather applauded herself for always having someone within shouting distance to follow her commands. At all times.
She turns, walking away already.
"What, no 'thank you brother'? Nothing?" The Collector asks with faked sadness in his voice, but she can hear the smile in his tone, the real one.
"I'll be deciding if you'll be thanked, or killed, later." She says to him, turning to give a taunting wave. "Ta Ta for now, Collector~."
And she turned, and walked away, uninterrupted.
That smirk on his face. She was curious what this prank of a gift was going to amount to.
He seemingly thought it'd be quite interesting.
Perhaps it would be... Perhaps it would be...
He blinked awake. He was no longer trapped in the repetitive nightmare.
Over and over, the labrynth of cages and metal, the monsters in the shadows.
That was gone, so he knew he'd arrived at wherever he was being stolen to.
He blinked awake. He was in some sort of golden palace. It was so bright. SO bright.
His eyes took a moment to adjust. There was a well dressed woman watching him, legs crossed as she sat on a big soft thing. It was bed shaped, but had a big back on it.
There were different shades to the gold.
The floor was a pale yellow. The walls were darker, with patterns like a sun shining into a sky... It was carved.
The furniture was lots of one medium color, goldish, but not made of actual gold, though some things, lamps and such, WERE real gold. There was also some sorta golden wood that some tables and stuff were made of.
He looks at the woman, she even WEARS gold.
Was this some sorta afterlife? There was a golden one, wasn't there?
She was staring at him.
He stares back, and realizes he feels something on his neck, and nothing else.
He still has no clothes, and he has a hefty collar around his neck. It's weight feels like metal, he can sense that it's got some sort of technology in it. He can sense the gentle buzz inside it.
He looks at the woman, his red eyes meet hers. They're red too, but not quite, they have orange in them too... Red-orange.
He hadn't met anyone else with red eyes...
Though his eyes weren't always red, his lenses changed it.
He thinks, and then clicks his piloting lenses in.
His eyes now have orange in them.
She blinks, surprised, her stoic expression faltering into something else-interest.
Was that a bad thing to do...?
He clicks them off. His eyes returning to the natural red.
He blinks, and looks down slightly, glancing back up at her. Nervous.
"Can you do that again?" She asks suddenly.
Her voice is cold. There's a slight warmth to it, but it sounds like a lie.
It reminds him of Sire's fake nice voice. He knows better than that.
But... He clicks the pilot lens back on.
"Fascinating... Any other colors?" She asks with a tilt of her head.
He's nervous. He wants to run away. He's being Tested.
He clicks to his holo-eyes. Those add blue to his eyes, which makes his eyes appear purple, and the pupil gets a blue color instead of the hollow black.
He then tilts his head to his vitals check, the blue clicking away, replaced with a brighter, more saturated red.
He clicks his eyes to zoom mode, green infiltrating his eyes. He knows it always clashed, but he liked the way it clashed.
He clicks his eyes to 'focus' mode, and there's a yellow in his eyes, making them more blatant orange.
He clicks his eyes to blindspot mode, which alerts him to that which he can't see. It points out many hiding places in the room, and he notes them for later, but for now, just lets the pink added to his eyes fascinate the woman.
He clicks to Detection mode, able to see the waves and signals in the air, all the tech and the things he could find connections on, all of it easily visible. The woman is wearing an earpiece, and has some sort of signal projector in her hand, connected to his collar. It adds white to his eyes, making a soft pink color.
He clicks to darkvision, which doesn't really work in the bright room, but it makes his eyes invert color to a full green.
The last one that changes color is Critical Hit mode, which makes his eyes a dangerous dark red, like blood.
Once done, he clicks back to normal.
After a moment, she moves her finger from her chin, where it was curled, chin resting on the side of a partial fist, as she had been deep in thought, "How intriguing..."
Rocket looks down nervously, then looks up at her, hesitating, but deciding to speak. "Wh're 'm I?"
She seems immediately startled. "You can speak?"
Rocket nods. "Yeah..."
She composes herself, and stands up, standing to walk toward the massive windows connected to the large space. There were stairs against the other wall, that led up to some sort of place with a railing, looking down on the massive room. Part of him wanted to run away to up there, try to find an escape.
She clears her throat, and gestures for him to come over, catching his attention right before he can focus on the massive chandelier. He quickly gets up, and lets out a sharp bark of pain immediately. His leg feels horrible.
She glares back, and he realizes that isn't an excuse not to obey. She IS like Sire.
He forces himself to walk over, hiding his limp as much as he can, and looking out at... a gorgeous city.
Pink, Blue, Purple, Gold, Orange, Green, Red... Lights in every color... A city with no stars, just blinking electrical lights above... The structures look like they're all connected. There are parks, areas with greenery, under individual artificial stars. Little pockets of fake sunlight, just adding to the cacophany of color and light.
The buildings are all disc shaped, with pipes, hallways and elevators inside, probably, some being larger cylindrical structures. The windows are the things letting out all those lights. He can see some massive arena-like structure in the back. It's all so beautiful. He's never seen anything like it.
"This is the Casino Cosmica. It's my realm, my territory." The woman states firmly. "You were given to me as a gift. More likely a prank, by my idiot brother."
Rocket feels himself deflate, slightly. A gift, a thing. Of course. "ugh..." He can't help but mumble.
The woman scoffs in amusement, and he looks up at her as she quirks an eyebrow at him. "My, not very happy about that, are you, little thing? Bold."
"Hate bein' treated like I ain't a person..." Rocket admits with a soft whimper.
"Hm. Is that so?" She asks, looking out into the city, a curious tone on her voice. "So then, what of your name? Subject 89P13? 'Subject' doesn't exactly shout for respect."
"That ain't my name..." Rocket growls with a squeaky rasp.
"Very well, what is your name, then?" She asks, sounding sincere for the first time. Though still cold.
"S. Rocket." Rocket says firmly.
"S...?" She asks, seemingly wanting him to elaborate.
"Sky. But I usually just get calleds Rocket." Rocket explains.
He thinks back on that.
First time he'd gone to prison. The guard asked his first name, he said the first idea he'd had, Sky, then they asked his last name, so he said the last idea he'd had, the one he chose, Rocket. But apparently most people keep the first and last ones.
He thinks it's a bit weird, but he likes his name anyway.
"Well, my name is private." She says, gesturing to herself. "But you may call me The Profiteer. Everyone does."
"Profiteer...?" Rocket thinks for a second, "Like, y'make profits?"
She chuckles fakely, and nods, "Yes. I make profits."
Rocket nods.
He then glances down at himself, and looks up at her.
"D'you know what happened t'my clothes...?" He asks hesitantly.
She blinks. "Oh."
So as it turns out. The creature was not 'Subject 89P13' by choice.
He was not a thing, he argued.
He was in fact, a bounty hunter by trade, having taken out several marks.
And the Collector had apparently thrown out his clothes. So now the Profiteer had to waste HER money on getting him new clothes. It was annoying, but at the bare minimum, she wasn't going to deny him dignity.
He had been interesting enough. He wasn't valuable yet, but he seemed quite intelligent, and potentially dangerous. She liked that sort of thing. Maybe she could put him into the arena... Maybe she could have him be a guard... Time would tell.
Regardless, she was intrigued.
She could tell he was already mapping out escape routes, and observing everything.
She knew he was much smarter than he was trying to appear. He was clever.
As she looked at him, dressing in the clothes she'd ordered for him, following at least a couple of his requests, she couldn't help but be amused by the tiny thing.
He was thin, half-starved. He was barely up half her lower leg, height wise. His fur was surprisingly well groomed for it, though. He must take pride in his appearance, or something like that.
He was confused by the bowtie, though. He must not have seen one before.
He'd put the white sleeveless undershirt on, buttoned it up fine, then the black vest over that. The pocket square, it even seemed to figure out was for decoration.
It had the spats on after it realized where they went. The matching glove-pieces she thought would be cute.
Then there were the black pants she'd made her tailor quickly put together. It had to have a tail hole, obviously.
She looks now, at the little one. Struggling to figure out the bowtie.
She kneels down, gestures for him to hand it to her, and he does.
She ties the thing around the collar, but makes sure the important part stands out as it should.
She pulled the collar of the undershirt from underneath, through the inside of the collar.
He seemed incredibly nervous having her nails that close to his throat. Smart.
She folded the collar of the shirt over the metal collar.
She stands, looking down at him. Amused.
The black and white paired well with his warm brown fur. It made him look like a distinguished little gentleman, if she said so herself. The little thing had been here a few hours, and she had yet to really talk with him.
After he'd asked the clothes question, she had asked what kind it wanted, got them ordered, altering some things. (She would have no pet of hers wearing an industrial jumpsuit around her casino.)
But she abided the sleeveless request.
She had also immediately messaged her brother, to ask why he stripped the sentient creature.
That's also how she had learned he had dispatched 3 of the 4 bounty hunters that'd been sent after him.
She truly didn't know what she'd be doing with him.
The arena? Maybe.
Guard work? Maybe.
Just keep around as a cute little entertaining pet? Maybe.
For now though, she had work to get to. She ordered food to the room, and told Rocket to wait in the living room.
After explaining to him that the Living Room was the one with the couch and TV, and then explaining what those were, she was finally able to retreat to her study to resume her work.
She'd learned that Subject 89P13 had several counts of Arson, Bounty Hunting work, Theft, and Involuntary Manslaughter.
She was interested to see what he'd be doing next.
Rocket sat on the 'couch'. He liked this thing. It was comfy. Warm an' soft an' all that junk.
He was wearing a comfy outfit, it looked really clean and fancy, HE was wearing fancy stuff!!!
He liked how it looked against his fur.
He wanted to groom himself to make sure he looked good. But he had to wait here. He was told to.
Then he hears footsteps approaching outside one of the many doors the 'living room' had.
The Profiteer had gone up to one on the second story, she said it was her 'study', and he ''wasn't to bother her' there.
He stares at the big door that the footsteps were approaching, watches the door click open.
In walks a scrawny pink skinned girl, wearing a short-skirted dress, it looks uncomfortable and impractical.
She's carrying a metal tray, with a metal dome over it.
She looks around, before spotting him, and walking over. He tenses up.
He shifts slightly, ready to run at a moment's notice, but she stops at the big table in front of the couch.
She sets the tray down.
"Here you are, dinner is served." She says with practiced class, though he can hear a hint of anxiety in her voice.
"Dinner...?" Rocket asks, curious.
She's surprised by him talking. Suddenly a lot more openly anxious. "Oh, um. M-Madam Profiteer ordered dinner for her um... You. I-It's a kind of steak, I think? I didn't cook it. The chefs did."
"Food? Really?" He looks at the tray. Dinner was food, good to know. "Wow..."
"Um... Yeah!" She says, smiling nervously, before getting up, "W-Well, I um, oughta, y'know, uh, get back to work-so, like, um-bye!" She skedaddles.
Rocket nervously takes the big dome off the tray, and is smacked in the face by amazing smells.
Freshly grilled MEAT, there are some grilled veggies, there's some sorta soft white stuff, it looks puffy and there's a golden brown sauce or somethin' over it.
His mouth is starting to water, he notices napkins on the tray, and takes one to stop himself from drooling on his clothes.
Free food... GOOD food...
Free clothes... NICE clothes...
Soft places to sit and rest...
Beautiful view...
He could get used to this.
He might like this.