Chapter 5
It never ceased to amaze Gamora that a small twig with only one limb could get into so much trouble in the time it took them to get to Nowhere. It began, like many of Groot’s antics, with a crash and a scream. Unlike most of his antics, Rocket did not curse and come running. There was hardly a sound at all which was why she, after a few minutes of speculation, ran towards the sound.
“Uhh, Rocket no wonder we keep having problems with the engine it’s filthy in here!” She side-stepped the heap of explosives, by this time it no longer shocked her. The scent of smoke, oil and old beer. She looked around, lifting several boxes of equipment trying to find the plant through the mess. “Groot? Groot?”
“uhhhh,” his small cry sounded once more. Gamora peered under a large pipe and gasped.
“Groot!” Her heart thudded in her chest, lunging forward she snatched the stick of lit randarium dynamite. He looked at her with large, shocked eyes and bent his mouth into a frown. “Groot, what are you doing? You nearly blew yourself up!” Tears of sap came to the edges of his eyes and she sighed, taking the stick of dynamite and putting it out. “Do you know what would have happened if I hadn’t caught you?” Evidently the tiny tree did not. Gamora took a deep breath, letting the momentary panic slip out her pursed lips. We have a responsibility to take care of him, she nodded to herself and crouched down, moving aside a box of ammunition. “We just don’t want you to get hurt okay?” Groot stared blankly. “I don’t even want to know how you lit that up but you can’t do it anymore and you cannot put it in your mouth. Understand?” Groot only sniffled. I am not cut out for this…Gamora thought begrudgingly.
“Hey Gams!” Peter’s voice echoed, “we’re gonna be landing soon!” She straightened, taking Groot’s pot in her hands and going up to the flight deck. Drax was already strapped into his seat.
“Here, take him.” Drax accepted the pot with a reluctant grunt. Any emotion he may have felt as the tree was sleeping quickly dissipated as Groot awoke. The small plant was insufferable, he’d gotten over his initial subdued nature after his injury and was now a stick of unavoidable catastrophe. He’d somehow gotten into Peter’s cassette deck and the whole ship awoke to the blaring sound of 70’s rock music so Peter had explained. Not that Gamora had been sleeping much anyways. A few hours later Groot pulled all of the strips out of one of Quill’s cassettes. Luckily it was not Awesome Mix Vol 1 or 2. But he had gotten a time out and a stern talking to. Rocket objected to this of course, reminding everyone that Groot was not, in his words “a flarking child that needed to be disciplined by kurtukan idiots.” She had only rolled her eyes and walked away. It was they’re responsibility to protect Groot sure, but actually parent him? She was not prepared for that. Buckling in, Gamora watched the looming head of the celestial drift closer.
“So we taking Groot or not?” Drax asked the question Gamora had been wondering. Peter pushed the door lever and she watched as the Milano’s doors opened, revealing the familiar stench of sour chemicals and alcohol.
“No one,” Peter decided before the doors came all the way down. “It’s the Collector. We need to be on our toes. Besides it’s not safe to leave anyone alone with Groot in the ship.” Gamora watched Rocket snarl his objection,
“I can’t believe your actually suggesting that Star-Face!”
“I know!” He admitted “It sounds really bad, but we will be in and out really quickly. It’s not safe to leave anyone alone with Groot on Nowhere.” The mammal relented,
“A’right but I’m holding onto him the entire time.” As if to make it apparent he picked up Groot’s pot and took it into his arms.
“Rocket,” Peter started but she recognized his desperation. As they walked down the ramp she grabbed his arm.
“Let him go.” He looked at her, through the emerging sounds of the urban landscape.
“I know, it’s just that…” his eyes held guilt but she only patted his arm briefly and followed Drax as they weaved through the crowded city. Gamora stepped quickly with practiced deftness, conscious of the eyes on her. Luckily the Collector’s showcase was not far. From the ruin the Infinity stone had wreaked he had now begun to rebuild. Smashed cages lay amid makeshift ones, metal beams upheld the second and third levels of the establishment. They walked in and out of the half-constructed halls and even the most dangerous woman in the world could not help but look at those creatures that had been caught and recaptured after the explosion.
Rocket did not look. He did not feel for them, he told himself he did not feel for them. He couldn’t afford to feel akin to them. I am not like them, he told himself as they walked by a strange four footed fury creature. Feeling for them would mean remembering the other creatures on Halfworld, those who got free and those who did not. He swallowed the sympathy and pressed Groot closer to his chest. Staring down at the charred ground that cage, the one he had not escaped from, hardened another layer around his heart.
“Guardians,” the Collector’s slimy welcome brought Rocket from his thoughts.
“Your renovations are coming along well,” Peter observed shaking the fancy man’s hand.
“Do you have it?” Quill nodded, reaching into his jacket and taking out container. In Rocket’s protective arms Groot squirmed. The Collector silently appraised the substance, some strange bellowing noise nearly caught Gamora off guard and she almost flinched at the loud noise. Almost. The animal in its cage, no, tank, gazed at her with forlorn eyes. Pity stirred in her stomach, an unfamiliar feeling but she hardened herself quickly. There was no time for that.
“We’d like to get paid.” She interjected. The Collector nodded, leading them to a cabinet propped against the wreckage of what had been a wall.
“Of course, 75,000 units. Do with it what you will. I will be in touch if…” Gamora watched his gaze drift to Rocket and then downward to Groot. She put a hand to her sword. “Is that….the same Groot?” He inquired, stepping between her and Peter. Rocket bristled, one hand going to his gun.
“What’s it to you?” The enhanced raccoon growled.
“I seem to remember being promised a sliver of his bark,” the Collector patiently reminded them. The assassin watched Rocket’s eyes narrow and shift, thinking it through.
“Look this tree saved the Galaxy,” Peter interjected. “More than any of us. You weren’t around. It’s cool man. We got you that alkaline our business is done here.” The Collector’s lips pressed into a thin line, again that bellow from one of the cages.
“I was promised a piece of this specimen.” He reiterated with a force that made Rocket grip the handle of his gun.
“Yes but that was the old Groot,” Drax stepped closer. “This one is a baby and cannot even talk.”
“Hey!” Rocket glared at him, the words Drax spoke sprinkled salt on the wound in his worry. “He ain’t new! He’s just regrowing he’s the same Groot!” Years of practice masked the desperate hope in his voice.
“Exactly,” the Collector beamed leaning down to Groot’s level. The little plant only stared. “A promise is a promise. Gamora, Peter and Drax watched with surprise as he revealed a pair of shears from his cloack. “Now hold still, this won’t hurt that mu…” A high-pitched scream hit their ears as Groot let loose three green vines from his good hand, smacking the Collector straight across the face and then whipping them around, Rocket flinched as a small leaf, evidently sharp, created a red streak of blood across his cheek. The vine twisted, wrapping around the man’s wrist holding the threatening shears. There was a snap, they dropped and the Collector screamed.
“That little…!” Peter grabbed the bundle of units,
“Let’s go!” They ran, ignoring the profanities that threatened them.
“So he obviously didn’t agree to that!” Peter shouted, veering around a large circular cage.
“I don’t blame him,” Gamora leapt over a fallen piece of rubble as they made their way out back onto the streets.
“Yah….got the units?” Rocket panted. Quill nodded, showing him. The first non-confrontational interaction since Trator.
“I do not believe that man will hire us again.” Drax stated. Peter shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Flark it Groot you didn’t need to break the guy’s wrist! He’s our richest client! Rocket thought disparagingly.
“Let’s just take it easy alright? We got our money let’s meet back on the ship in a few hours.” Wordlessly he divided it up, handing each of them their cash. Rocket took his and tucked it into the pocket of his suit.
“…and that makes three of us.” Rocket’s grip on Groot’s pot tightened.
“Four.” Peter frowned dumbly. Selfish flarking son of a weegot!
“Groot Star-Moron! He got more hurt then the rest of us on this job, he get’s his share of the cut.” Peter glanced skeptically at Gamora who shrugged.
“The animal is right.” Drax pointed out. Peter fumbled helplessly,
“Yeah but what’s he even going to spend it on? He’s a…"
“He ain’t a baby!” Rocket sneered, feeling his fur raise.
“He IS a baby,” Peter glared. “And he’s got no use for units so your just going to end up spending them yourself!” Star-douche thinks that’s my game here? The implication stung. Rocket shoved it down, adding it to the growing pyre of his pain.
“I’m serious dude! He lost is flarking arm! He gets his cut and he’ll spend it however he wants.” Peter relented, taking the units back and redistributed it. Handing Groot’s share to Rocket Peter eyed him suspiciously. “Save your breath Star-Jerk.” Rocket’s tail twitched in irritation, taking both shares of units. Groot only smiled obliviously.
“See you all back on the ship,” Gamora waved nonchalant as she walked down the crowded street. Drax departed with a silent nod and Quill turned on his heel, leaving Rocket and Groot to the slums of Nowhere.
Rocket stumbled as yet another clueless alien tripped over him. Krutaken jerks, never had to worry about getting stepped on when Groot was larger. The crowds made his hackles rise, there were so many things above him. Aliens of all shapes and sizes, even a few humies. Whenever they’d be on planets like this where everyone towered over him, (which was most planets) Rocket always perched on Groot’s shoulder. He could see everything, could survey his surroundings, mentally configuring taps and booeys should anyone try to catch them. But this time Rocket just carried Groot’s pot and tried not to get stepped on.
“Watch where you’re going vermin!”
“Hey! I’m walking here rat!” The enhanced Raccoon snuck down alleyways where he could, but even those were crowded and the smell was worse than Dravia. So many faces, walking in pairs or threes. Rocket quelled that salty mix of sadness and isolation, eyes searching between the legs and tentacles and appendages at eye level for the nearest dive bar. He’d already spent some of his units on new power converters, ammunition, a wrench and top of the line Scaararran aluminum. Glancing down at Groot who watched the streets in wonder, Rocket hefted the pot and walked on, sneaking underfoot through the bombastic, flashy shop stalls. The scent of rotting organic matter permeated lingered no matter how sweet and succulent the food in the stalls. Hell of a lot better than the smell of chemicals and metal, he told himself, shivering at the memory of it. Slinking down the steps, Rocket made his way into one of the few establishments that boasted Kree Kraamor, one of the strongest liquors in the galaxy and illegal in five provinces. The bright blue liquid was poured into the glass in a refreshing cascade. Groot eagerly watched, stretching out towards the triangular glass.
“No Groot,” Rocket pushed him away, “it’s not water. You’re gonna make yourself sick.” He lifted the glass, smiling and brought it to his muzzle. Groot gurgled and reached out with a single vine. “Flark it!” The thin green whisp knocked the glass clean out of Rocket’s paw. “Damn it Groot!” Kree Kraamor spilled down his pants and across his chest, the glass briefly flew through the air before an expensive sounding crash sounded on the floor.
“You’ll have to pay for that!” The bar tender scolded, she looked at Groot. “And we don’t allow children in this establishment.
“He’s not a…oh forget it.” He throws down the 100 units for the glass and orders water for Groot,who happily drinks it down before taking a nap. Eight drinks later Rocket’s mind is warm and fuzzy around the edges. Damn metabolizing mechanisms, have to work twice as hard to get drunk.
“Rocket?” He turned, Peter sat down beside him. “How’s it going?”
“Mmmh, fine Star-nut. You?” Rocket looked down at Groot, the little plant now up once more and trying to tip himself out of the pot, into the empty glass.
“Listen….I’m sorry about what happened,” Peter said gently.
“What’ll it be?” Rocket waited as the humie orderd. Contraxian Tribot, typical humie. The mammal blinked slowly, reaching a finger into his glass to stop Groot from trying to crawl in. The little flora colossus squeaked and bit him, gently mouthing at his finger.
“Anyway,” Peter continued, staring at the counter. “I’m sorry about what happened on Trator. You’re right. It was a stupid idea and Groot got hurt.” Rocket nodded, his mood somewhat quieted by the alcohol.
“It ain’t me you got to apologize to Quill.”