Chapter 14
They had split up not long after reaching the outskirts of the city. Rocket and Groot meandered unsuspiciously towards the junk yard while the rest of the group tried to merge with the crowd. Gamora weaved her way against the current of people and America trailed quickly behind.
Too many people always made her nervous. Too many possible outcomes. Too many unknowns. Her eyes shifted over the worn, leathery looks of the Xandarians as they passed.
She hadn’t noticed Thor and Drax veer off until they were already lost in the crowd. Stephen was beside her for most of the time, or behind when the space between people narrowed. Quill tried to keep up behind the three of them, continuously trying to pass Stephen and America to walk closer to Gamora.
There was a thing there--America deduced. A weird thing, but a thing nonetheless. She couldn't possibly add them to her plate though, not when she was so busy meddling with 838-Christine and Stephen. (an entirely different weird thing).
They walked passed a large fountain with a statue of a figure. Although the head had been removed and the sculpture has been splattered with red paint. The water was a slimy, dark green and bits of trash bobbed on the surface.
For a moment, America tried to imagine what Xandar had once looked like. The suns must’ve gleamed off of every polished surface. People would've been dresses in vibrant, obnoxious clothing and music would flood through the streets.
Now the only gleam came from the layer of oil on the surface of the stagnant fountain water. People dressed in colors that were muted by mud and muck.
“Not too much further,” Gamora said lowly.
Meanwhile, Rocket had led the teen to the city’s yard of half assembled, half demolished ships. Many if them Nova corps fleets that had sat there since Thanos attacked, the paint was nearly all chipped away and the metal was beginning to rust.
The pile of metal carcasses was lined with tall fencing. “Hm. Let's see,” Rocket murmured to himself, picking up a pebble from the ground and tossing it into the wiring. It crackled and let off a small white spark before falling.
“I am Groot,” he said with disinterest, more than half of his attention on a holographic rectangle that had a game playing.
“Exactly. See? I knew this was going to be easy.” Rocket straightened his jacket before climbing onto Groot’s back. “Okay, we're good.”
The branches that Groot’s legs were composed of began to stretched and grow from his trunked feet. He grew past the fence as Rocket evily chuckled and stood on his shoulder, holding one of the ridges on Groot’s head for support.
Groot leaned forward tentatively, his torso hovering an inch off of the fencing. Rocket leaped off and scanned the area as Groot was digging his fingers into the gravel. Groot lifted his legs on the other side and carefully brought his body back to normal size, wavering slightly as he past the humming fencing.
“Enie, meanie, minie--” Rocket glared at the selection of wreckage, his eyes falling on one of the more intact Nova ships. It’s front window was shattered and stains of blood still dripped down the front metal. “Bingo.”
On the other side of the city, Thor and Drax were nearing the food cart. The Krylorian that ran the shop was a bulbous man with long, wavy hair and faded tattoos running along his red skin.
His appearance and size commanded attention along with the child sized grease stain on his dingy apron. His cart was something to be commemorated. He had at least sixty different flavors of jerky separated by bins and jars along the counter space and flaps that hung from the top of his cart.
Drax approached the counter, a little too giddy for the setting. He cleared his throat once. “We want to try your spiciest.”
The Krylorian—Thor and Drax were 89% sure his name was Torrid—raised a thick brow before pulling out a tiny fork and stabbing it into an open jar. He then handed Drax a meat slice covered in soft, yellow specks.
Drax and Thor each took a piece and smacking their lips before making a wincing face. “Haha! That is excellent. Quill will cry.”
Thor scowled dramatically at the selection before saying with a raised finger, “let us sample your second spiciest now.”
Gamora, Quill, America, and Stephen had successfully navigated the clump of people and found themselves in a warehouse full of variously sized and stacked items. Furniture and cages and shiny objects and giant tubes of glowing liquid stocked the space.
“What does this mug thing look like?” Quill muttered, looking around the room for anything that appeared valuable.
Stephen groaned. “The Goblet of Set. It’s supposedly a golden goblet with red stones along the rim.” He searched the room for movement, surely the auctioneer kept his goods guarded.
“Oh. So basically we’re looking for a stick in a hay bale,” Peter moaned, gesturing towards the vastness of the warehouse.
“Oh my god. Needle in a haystack. It’s needle in a haystack,” Stephen pinched his eyes with his thumb and index finger. America gave him a few pats between his shoulder blades.
“Well whatever it is, we should find it and get out of here. The last time we were in one of these places we broke a lot of shit.” Quill glanced around the warehouse, a bit on edge.
A whirring sound started up in the back, followed by heavy footfalls. America exchanged a glance to Stephen, who appeared to be at his standard level of stress, which was slightly reassuring.
Between the pillars of stuff, a twelve foot machine began stepped closer and closer. It was a bulky, robot esc machine with wide legs and broad shoulders that barely fit between the makeshift hall of stuff. A round dome sat on the top. The entire thing clunked as it neared.
“What’s the plan if this thing has laser beams?” America whispered roughly as they anticipated the machine’s response to their presence.
Stephen gave her the squinted side eye.
“Cool. No plan for laser beams,” she quietly retorted, adjusting her sling ring.
The grey and blue metal machine was now in eyesight. It’s size was notable, though forgettable in comparison to what resided inside the dome head.
America let out an uncontrolled wheeze as the robot stopped a few feet ahead of them. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from bursting entirely in laughter. Stephen gave her a very pointed stop doing what you’re doinglook though deep down he couldn’t quiet blame her for wanting to giggle at the sight in front of them.
Under the dome, submerged in water, was a fat, burrito sized gold fish.
Back in the junk yard, Rocket and Groot had entered the ship through a blast hole in the back. Rocket carried a screw driver between his teeth as he climbed his way towards the cockpit.
Converters had to be changed once every 400,000 light years, so most newer model space ships had them located right under a panel near the control switches. Convenient.
While the window was shattered in a very clear someone-wasn’t-wearing-their-seatbelt kind of way, there was also several ounces of blood and dried… maybe brains? on the control panel.
Rocket flicked away what was hindering him getting to the screws and began using the driver to loosen the panel.
“I am Groot.” Groot groaned from the blast hole. He was swinging his legs out of the back, wishing he had charged his hologram game.
“I don’t know! Keep watch just in case.” Rocket shook his head as he took out the last screw. The panel, despite being a bit bent on top, slid off easily. Two perfectly intact converters sat inside.. well, perfect for their standards. One had darker coils and would have to be changed soon anyways, but hey, that was better than no converters at all.
A low growl was heard as Rocket pried free the two converters and slipped them into his side bag. His stomach knotted as he glanced through the spider web cracked windshield and saw the flick of a long, slender tail.
Claws tapping the top of the ship echoed in the silent cockpit. Rocket quickly buttoned the bag before getting a better grip on the screw diver.
“I am Groot,” he groaned again from the opening, clearly slacking at his job at look out.
The claws stopped above a wobbly looking tile above. Rocket scurried past, yelling, “Run!” just as the tile dropped. Wires dangled from the top and a striped and scaly creature snarled at the pair.
Rocket hadn't stopped to see what it was, leaping from the torn metal hole and tugging Groot’s hand to lead him away from the ship.
About a mile and a half from the warehouse and two from the junkyard, Thor and Drax were entering in a heated argument with the RatJerk guy, who neither of them remembered being this rude.
“Meathead! Buy something or get lost, you've sampled enough!” He would’ve been red in the face if his skin wasn't already a deep shade of crimson normally.
“This land has no laws about free samples,” Thor said matter-of-factly.
Torrid (that wasn't his name at all) huffed. “You’re moochers! Both of ya! No more samples.”
Drax crossed his arms. “I can't decide unless I've tried them all. What if I make a wrong choice?”
Torrid’s nostrils flared and the ridges in his skin almost seemed to deepen. “He reached below the counter and slammed a baton with spikes against the table. “Buy or leave.”
Drax and Thor glanced at one another.