13910/Together Again For The First Time

Together Again For The First Time
Date of Scene:	20 January 2023
Location:	Space
Synopsis:	Peter and Rocket come to rescue Gamora. It goes exactly as planned. Her plan. It goes exactly as she planned it.
Thanks to:	Gamora
Cast of Characters:	Gamora, Peter Quill, Rocket

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Gamora has posed:
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Peter Quill has posed:
"... and that's why I think that Tyvarian Swamp Rats would make the best pets. They /eat/ anything smaller than them!"

Peter Quill, sometimes known as the Legendary Outlaw: STAR-LORD, is at the controls of the Milano at this time of being in an argument with the only other person(?) that can fly this bird the way it needs to be flown. Well, maybe it's not technically an argument but sometimes it can seem that way because of the yelling. But that's just really impassioned speech topics!

Quill's got a whole load of scanners and communication screens up to make sure he can keep tabs on the Guardians that are not on ship right now. He also has some screens up for local systems so that whatever systems they pass through, if distress signals pop up or a chance at some Units, then hey, they'll be ready to jump into action.

"Unless you can think of something cooler?" The challenge gauntlet is dropped basically in Rocket's lap.

Gamora has posed:
The communication comes through an old Ravager signal rather than one of their own devices. "Peter, I need help." It's Gamora. It doesn't sound afraid, could someone imagine Gamora sounding afraid of anything, but it does sound... like she asked for help. Which could, from a particular point of view, be much worse than afraid.

She ran into something (or visa versa) that she did not think she could handle on her own.

There's also coordinates. A small backwater planet on the edge of Nova Space. Notorious for the particularly violent outlaws that frequent a planet where there is no official law covering it (aside from the Green Lantern Corps maybe, but who cares about those stuck up turds).

There's only one landing pad, two taverns, and twice as many whore houses.

Basically it's the Guardians kind of place.

"I need to go, hurry."

Then the communication ends.

Rocket has posed:
Long trips means that discussions, both philosophic and concrete, happen, even if it's not welcomed. They've gone from 'I can kill that in 3 shots... 2 shots... 1 shot. KILL THAT BETA UNILU CRABMASTODON.' to 'best pets'?

Rocket is sarcastically strapped in, and he too has the starmaps up and running, giving an overlay in front of him in terms of position. It's more a two-person control very much in the vein of 'student driver' sort of controls, where more machine than raccoon can wrest control should it be required and/or warranted. "You kiddin'? We used to hunt and eat them so they wouldn't eat our faces off during the long nights. Nothing creepier than waking up with a rat hanging off your ear." Literally.

"For me, I'd go for an Altair Delta 6 River sloth. Thing has a great nose for metal." So what if it has a VERY specialized diet...

"I mean..." and there, there is the communication. It's not that Rocket hears it first, no...

"I am Groot," comes from the backseat, the creature's tones demanding attention. "I am Groot."

"What? Yeah, I.." and that's when it sinks in, the voice. "Uh... Quill.. she's askin' for you."

Heh..

Peter Quill has posed:
"Of course you'd pick a river sloth! That's such a /you/ pet, Rocket! Come on!"

Quill's overactive hands are flailing about as he once again puts his attention on things that are important like making sure the Milano doesn't crash. Also, making sure that he's ready to switch controls back to his side if the Rocket gets a little too pawsy. It's just the way they handle things sometimes.

It probably shouldn't but that's Rocket and Quill for you.

When the communication comes in, Quill's normally joking nature is thrown for a bit of a loop. "Rocket?" the coordinates are swiped from the Ravagers comm towards Rocket's screen so they can be put into the navigational computer.

"I don't like it. Gamora doesn't ask for help." Quill's sitting up so that he can focus on the controls a bit more. He's really quite ready to make these jumps happen so fast. "I think we're going to need a lot of weapons."

Gamora has posed:
They have an hour worth of prep time between Jumps. Which is also plenty of time to worry, at least for Groot and Peter. Rocket might worry, but he'll never tell anyone, so who would even know?

When they finally reach the backwater planet, it looks like something straight out of Deliverance. The landing pad is full of ships that's extended warrentee ran out over three decades ago and truly scummy crews loitering the expansive section of the port. Which is, to its credit, a good place to find just about anything, so long as you have no interest in wanting to acquire it legally.

The particulars of her message left a ton of open ended questions. Where would they even start looking for her, primary amongst them. But Rocket could easily trace the signal to one of 3 motels that line the single busy streets running through the middle of the only settlement on this class F world.

Seriously, even the atmosphere is out to kill you outside the protective dome.. which is in a state of debatiable repair.

Rocket has posed:
As Quill talks, Rockets snout is positioned forward in his lean, those beady black eyes looking out at the starmap even as the coordinates are beamed in and locked in. At least three hyperspace jumps, one through contested space, and the last, well... it'd be like coming home. Space dog-fights that culminate in taverns and night life like no other. Very few systems can boast such fun for the entire family.

"Yeah, yeah.. I hear." Rocket reaches up, toggles a couple of switches that have their corresponding lights going from a darkish night-running red to something a little brighter to indicate they've been switched on and potentially very, very ready. "Forward guns, shield rising to something a little more 'shieldish'," the raccoon likes to keep his vocabulary simple for Quill. It's just how they do it!

"First jump is coming in three minutes," sounds as a warning.

Each of the jumps are easy enough; a little bit of a shudder here and there from their jump engines, but all was ironed out in each leg of hyperspace. After all, there's nothing else to do (other than stare at each other and talk), so making sure the ship is as optimal as possible is certainly a priority.

As the planet hoves into view, Rocket is back in his seat, and he straps in, the sarcasm in his movements missing. There is an element of excitement, however; perhaps it shows in the position of his ears, those whiskers, or the soft, unconscious chittering in anticipation that he'd never, ever admit to.

"Doing a quick scan. Do we want to nose in next to the freighter, or by that derelict-- oh, I like it." Apparently he just finished a scan. "We'll go over there, by that junk pile with hyperdrive."

Peter Quill has posed:
"This is your show, Rocket, I'm just Guest Starring."

This is the part where Peter Quill seems to be either placating or happily letting Rocket deal with the complete landing and what not of the Milano. "If we don't die, I say we go shopping before we leave this place. And I'm using air quotes around shopping." Peter's old Ravagers sensibilities are kicking in as he takes a glance at the planet and some of the information coming up on his screens.

He's going to love it here.

Soon as the Milano touches down, Quill's already on his way out of the landing ramp and he's got all of his gear on. Holstered Quad Blasters and a bag of tricks that could come in handy. He's got a big ol' grin and extra swagger as he steps down off the ship.

"Look alive, people. Let's make some trouble." STAR-LORD makes sure he says that loud enough for anyone else to hear. He's all about trying to make sure that people know that the Guardians of the Galaxy have arrived.

"Rocket?" comes the questioning tone so that he can point them in the direction of where they need to catch up with Gamora.

Gamora has posed:
The Guardians of the Galaxy don't have quite the reputation in this part of space in more reputiable sectors, but people still know who they are. Some from Peter's Ravager days, some from Rocket's Bounty Hunting days, and others because this is exactly the kind of place Thanos might have sent his daughters to acquire very legally questionable muscle that could also be classified as 'dispendable assets'.

Which probably contributes quite a bit to the sour looks being leveled upon the crew as they land and step out of the Milano. There's a difference between getting attention and whatever this is.. Everyone who saw the brightly colored ship come in, every crew standing around their junker, and every poorly disguised assassin this side of the port is staring at Quill as he comes walking off the ship.

One of them, a big Tagrutan (a race known for being more muscle than they've got brains) licks their lips and leans over to whisper something to the smaller associate beside him. Not to subtly pointing in the direction of Star-Lord.

Suffice to say, this probably has a lot to do with why Gamora called for backup.

'Where they need to catch up' is just down the dirty streets lined with vendors, all packed tight with junk and trash. Every grifter is trying to sell them something, Space jam, garanteed to cure every known ailment! Mil-spec cloak shields! After market! Altair Delta 6 River Sloaths.. they might eat your ship, but they grill nicely!

Rocket has posed:
Rocket makes flying the Milano look easy; perhaps it is easier for him in that he could just plug into the main systems and basically use the spaceship as an extension of himself. Not that he'd really want to do it because he'd have to make sure all the life support systems were being monitored properly, and with the excitement of space battles, it's the little things that get forgotten along the way.

"Yeah.. I got this." It's a grumble, but not an ill-tempered one; more one of concentration. He's got scanners up, pegging life forms that might be in the immediate vicinity that might have powerpacks that are glowing. Particularly on that flying derelict...

The touchdown is butter, the landing gear touching down seemingly delicately in a vision of precision flying. Rocket has his gear on; helmet and goggles with his pack on his back that holds both breathable air AND fuel for his jet-pack boots. That's not to mention the guns that he's wearing, holstered as they are at the moment. If this was another space-western, the words 'I am to misbehave' might actually come from the raccoon. But, it's not, but he still has that manner about him that screams it regardless.

"I am Groot." Someone else is ready?

"Hey buddy.. stay with the ship. I don't think we'll be too long." There's a pause before Rocket continues under his breath, "I'll call you when I go shopping." The word, of course, is used with Quill's definition.

"What? I'm comin'.." is groused, his tones sounding a little gruffer. Perhaps it's just a bit of theatrics?

Maybe.

Black beady eyes behind goggles on that black-furred mask stare at those just lounging with their ships, and when he smiles, those small, very sharp teeth can just be seen beneath the furred muzzle. "C'mon, this way," and the three-foot Guardian begins to lead the way. Through the avenues of 'trade', both loosely defined and actual, the street barkers hawk all sorts of wares, including, "Aw, man.. now I want a sloth." Sigh.

Peter Quill has posed:
Quill's all about following Rocket's lead on this one since there's a lot of eyes on them right now. He's watching everyone as closely as possible while also making it look like he's not paying attention at all. Groot gets a bit of a salute since he and Rocket are leaving him behind at the moment but it's all for the betterment of getting the heck out of here on time.

Plus, Groot's likely got enough muscle to make sure that nobody messes with the Milano.

"The Tagrutan gets a wink and a finger-gun from Quill as the (Half-)Terran makes his way off in the direction to follow Rocket.

"So I'm thinkin' we're pretty much gonna' shoot first and not ask questions. What say you, partner?" Quill can play nice when it comes to working together to get a fellow Guardian out of potential trouble. "Any idea what we're walking into?"

Rocket's got all kind of scanner and tracking and what not tech. Who knows what kind of info he can get before they get there.

Gamora has posed:
The question 'what we're walking into?' is answered pretty quickly, whether Rocket knows or not... but it's fair to say he probably does. This is a Rocket kind of place, afterall. There double digit number of assorted races and species inside the motel lobby/bar they're about to walk into. Swaying wooden double doors just like you'd expect from a classic Terran Western lead into a dirty, rowdy, and rather quite lively establishment at this late hour.

And just like high school, there's a hierarchy seating arangement:

The drifters sit in the general assembly center stage, with the various groups circling the back wall by a long wooden bar. A synthetic is playing an up-beat song on an instrument in desperate need of repair. The song is barely audible over the laughing, raucous laughter and conversations all mixed together like a toxic blend of 'space dummies' who think way too highly of themselves.

HOWEVER, if music is your thing?

All conversation stops the second one group sees Star-Lord and Rocket walk into the establishment. Like a wild-fire it runs through the whole club until only thing making any noise at all is the synthetic playing a janky off-note song.

Also someone farted.

Clearly not expecting it to suddenly get quiet.

Rocket has posed:
A Terran is a Terran is a Terran. Boring, bi-pedal thing that has almost the same iteration throughout the galaxy, nay, the universe. One might say that it's obviously the superior form, but others would say, and perhaps rightly so, that imagination has gone right out the door. Now, there are bug creatures that are a few steps more insectoid than Mantis, some shuffling sentient cephalopods with weapons slung across their backs as well for good measure, but why is it that when a Terran and a RACCOON walk into a bar, that all eyes fall on them? And everyone falls quiet to boot!

Rocket pauses at the door and looks UP at Quill in a sidelong glance, "The only question I wanna hear is 'Is that all?'." The distinct sound of Rocket's voice, that gravelly tone, carriers through the place. It's a game of psych-out, and the raccoon has a poker face, mostly thanks to the goggles and fuzzy face.

"You!" Dark marble eyes turn to that //one// guy, "Your mother raise you in a barn? That's disgusting."

Rocket steps in and moves towards the bar, moving around at pretty much waist-level to the patrons of the bar. No matter; he'll part them like the Red Sea if need be... 'red' being the operative term.

Rocket is absolutely looking for Gamora. The trip to the bar has purpose; there are ports that he knows of that he can just access without too much concern. "Remember the rules." No taking on 10 or more without a partner, no stealing anything worth more than 500 credits without letting someone else know.. "I shouldn't be long."

Peter Quill has posed:
"No worries. I'll keep an eye on the riff-raff."

STAR-LORD makes it a point to nod in the direction of everyone else in the establishment that's not him or Rocket. That's right, he's managing to consider everyone else in this entire place as 'the riff-raff' because he's more than willing to take on this entire place if that's what it takes to get his Guardian back.

Quill's swagger stepping is something of a slower pace than Rocket's. He's moving along after him but taking his time and moving to lean against the bar. He's not about to take a full seat in case he needs to jump into the fray and throw some hands. Or shoot some Quad Blasters. Either way, he's got his back towards the bar and leaning back on it like he's been here a thousand times. Then again, all these dives are the same.

"Alright." Star-Lord looks around at the collection of undesirable types. "Who's tab is my drink going on?"

Gamora has posed:
The companion for that 'one guy' slap him on the arm, "Sorry.. it just slipped out..." He says in a language that sounds more like someone squeezing a fist full of grapes than actual words. "SQUIK SQUIQR SQUIRT PLRRRRRTH" But translations are universal, he's embarrassed about his little butt-toot. Or, perhaps more accurately, being called out about it.

The woman working behind the bar is a Gridoran: Which is a rather attractive species, if one finds walrus' attractive. Some people do. She is, however, very polite. In that she looks very nervous when speaking to Star-Lord and Rocket when asking what she can get them. On account of they've gotten the attention of one of the various corner groups.

Fact of seedy bar of the day: The darker the seedy corner, the more important the seedy occupant.

There are no lights at this table. So basically these guys rule the roost... and they're staring at the Terran and Raccoon. One of them, a slender Xandarian, leans over to a waitress that comes by, whispers something to her, and points in the direction of the Guardians of the Galaxy.

That waitress makes her way over, speaking quietly almost as soon as Quill asks, "Mr. Sha'tul says your drinks are on him. He says that he would welcome you to come to his table. He says that this is not an invitation." Then she clears her throat and scampers off because being this close to the pair is clearly drawing unwanted attention to HER. And she is not sitting in one of the dark corners, so therefore does not have the blessed cover of shadows to protect her from whatever ill-fate befalls people who get some of these beings attention without it.

Also, she doesn't want to be near them if they decide that it was an invitation and decide not to accept it. Where the Xandarian is not a very big man, which matters very little, his three companions are not. Three overly large Badoon 'big ass lizard-people' who each sport an anti-matter rifle.

Needless to say, those kinds of munitions are highly illegal.

Rocket has posed:
Rocket's gaze moves slowly towards the one that had committed the infraction, the fur on his muzzle shifting slightly in annoyance. It is obviously an expression most favored by the raccoon as it does give something of a familiar quality to his face and he exhales in a sigh before turning towards the bar once more.

As Quill lays down the cover fire, as it were, it's not a difficult task for Rocket to plug in and do a quick search for places where Gamora had shown up on a scanner or three. Someone is always using one; it's just a matter of tapping into it.

Now, Rocket has spent a great deal of time in shady corners. Heck, technically he's a nocturnal animal, so the darker the better as far as the procyon is concerned (NOT a canid!). With the connection established, he can fire and forget, as it were, and with the approach of the waitress, complete with answer to the question, Rocket actually whistles softly as he lifts his muzzle to look at Quill. "We might be here a little longer than expected," is murmured. "But if it means free booze?" He's all for it. Particularly with that side order of potential violence. "Lead on." Quill's turn now.

Peter Quill has posed:
"Skandavarian Milkshake. Extra Mocha." Quill makes his order quite quickly because he's taking this time to ignore the 'request' that's definitely not a request. He does some quick maths though before turning back to the bartender with a grin, "Five Straws." A wink is tossed in her direction as Quill pushes away from the bar with a special kind of confidence.

"Let's make this quick. And messy if we have to." is muttered down towards Rocket before he spins on the heels of his boots so that he can make a focused stride off in the direction of the dark and shady corner that doesn't look like it's going to be a safe location for him and Rocket. Which is all the more fun.

The closer he gets, the more stiff his movements become as he decides to pull himself into a very Frankenstein Lite style movement that pretty much only would be recognizable to other Terrans or those that get Terran television programming.

Upon his arrival at the table, Star-Lord puts on his best Lurch impression as he just tilts his head to look at everyone gathered. "You Rang?"

Gamora has posed:
Surprisingly, or less so if you know Gamora, there have been virtually no hits on any security feeds. Aside from one, in this bar, a few nights ago. It comes back to Rocket pretty quickly. She walked in, went straight to the bar, and then had a very short conversation with the same gentleman that he and Quill are going to speak with. More importantly, it didn't look at all like she was trying to hide who she was or that she was here. She just walked in, had her conversation, shook hands with the Xandarian, and left.

"The Gardeners of the Galaxy." The Xandarian says with a bemused grin, gently clapping the tips of his left hand into the palm of his right. A very condescending thing that douch-bags do when they're trying to appear like they're being condescending. So, mostly successful. "I did. The daughter of Thanos said you would be coming, I hadn't expected it to be so quickly. She does work fast, doesn't she?" He voice drips with self-importants, because Xandarians are like that. Even the scummy ones. "You should really pick better friends."

The two Badoon have already pulled. Not the big ass guns leaning against the table, but a trio of blasters the whine to life beneath it when they point them at Rocket and Peter's direction, "Please, have a seat. Find out what your lives were worth to your friend?"

Rocket has posed:
"Their blood is a little harder to get out of my fur," grouses Rocket as he nod/gestures towards that darkened corner, the big guys in particular. "And it dries in clumps." A blood droplet expert? Of course he is.

"Lemuran ale. Without so much toxinate." There's his order, not that he'll be able to drink much of it, thanks to Quill ... being Quill.

The trace on Gamora is a success, and with the newly found information, those dark marble eyes look at the gathered in that corner again, his ears twitching even as he catches the all-too familiar high-pitched *whine* of the powersupplies. From his ears twitching to a quirk of the fold over his muzzle, there is the hint of the sharp little teeth that are just below.

"I keep sayin' that 'Guardians' is too much. I like it when we're not lumped into something so goody-goody, because I really do enjoy a good fight. Just because." His gaze sweeps over the big men holding not quite so large guns. His ears fold slightly to the side, whiskers shift back on his muzzle in that 'try me' expression. There's no fear from the half-raccoon, half-cyborg.

"Last I heard, we were goin' for a cool few million credits."

Peter Quill has posed:
So now the Shady Corner Gang has pulled weapons on the Guardians of the Galaxy. At least two of them. And right now they should definitely be putting their hands up or something but Peter Quill has different plans. There's actually a sigh as he holds up a single gloved finger to the Shady Corner Gang. "I'm sorry, I know you want to kill us but could you give me one second? Thanks."

It's at this moment that Quill turns fully to the side so that he can start another (fake) argument with Rocket. "See, why do you always do this? Guardians of the Galaxy is the best name we've got. It's so much better when you don't name yourselves!" As Quill is doing this explaining he's using crazy eye movements and hand flailing to get Rocket on the same page. And that page would be to be getting the heck ready to dodge out of the way and/or start shooting. "Just because this putz can't pronounce it doesn't make it a bad name!" This is very much likely an argument that they have all the time. Or at least fake enough to seem like it happens all the time.

It's also a distraction.

Suddenly, Quill shows why he's called (calls himself, ahem) STAR-LORD and he's slings a gravity mine onto the floor in front of the Shady Corner Gang's table. It smacks into the ground and activates immediately, creating an artificial gravity field to yank at the Shady Corner Gang and their weapons while he (and Rocket, hopefully) dive out of range of this damn thing!

Somebody should place some tunes right now...

Gamora has posed:
"She let you go cheap." Xandar shadow man says with a sneer, "Only wanted some information, now... what I get for turning you in, that's besides the point. You might better have a seat and enjoy your drinks." Motining with a hand extending from a very expensive (Or what he thinks is very expensive anyways) suit. "It might be your last."

But then Quill is asking for a second and Xandar Shadow Man is frowning at this unexpected turn of events. Clearly he had not calculated for an argument betwixt his intended capturees. "S-sure?" He doesn't sound convinced, peering at one of his very big Badoon... Bagoons? Who just shrugs. He's not here for his thinking power, he's here to shoot. Everyone knows that. When you want thinkers, you don't hire Bagoons. So the Xandarian sighs, shakes his head, and goes to take a sip from his own drink... when all of sudden the gravity around his table stops working! The liquid sloshes up out of the glass as he is flung up into the air, with his lips puckered out still trying to slurp it!

Maybe it's the fact a bar-fight is definitely about to break out, but the synthetic music-man begins playing Bliztkrieg Bop.

Oooooooh yeeeeeeeaaah...

Crash, a stool breaks over the back of 'fartmans' head back behind them!

Hey, ho, let's go!

One of the badoon's pulls his blaster ready to fire at Rocket!

Another does the same, ready to fire at Peter... Both of them are upside down!

Nothing makes sense anymore!

Rocket has posed:
Quill's turn to 'discuss' all of this is met with what just may not be a theatric look of irritation on the raccoon's face. Either that, or he's a very, very good actor. "I keep tellin' you it's dumb. Makes me sound like I'm part of the space patrol or something, and I can't be bothered with all that. It's //boring//..."

Rocket certainly can see where this is going, and with the gestures and gesticulations, he's got that idea of what is about to go down- or maybe not, but he's prepared for anything regardless.

The moment that grav-bomb goes off, Rocket is in the air with his jet-pack, his guns coming out, one in each hand. "Sucker. Not even gonna be mad that she played you like that."

And, of course, a bar-fight ensues. One shot of his blaster goes off in the direction of one of the goons that is trying to get a bead on Quill, with his jetpack giving him some support so he doesn't go through a wall. He's a pro at hovering and shooting, with his instrumentation keeping him from flipping over, unless he really wanted to--

"Eat plasma!" is snarled through sharp teeth. "This is for that million credits that you're not gettin'." That second shot does have the raccoon flipping over now, and it has him landing on the side of the wall, his own jetboots turning into grav-boots, which locks him on as he trains that second plasma blaster.

Peter Quill has posed:
"I love this part."

Maybe Quill is seeing all this in slow motion or something because he has an opportunity to say that while his body is twisting and those hands are quick-drawing both of his Quad Blasters out of their holsters. They don't get the luxury of being twirled for style at this moment but those stylish weapons of his light up with some firing action as he starts blasting at the Badoon Horde with incapacitating electricity bolts! Should be like shooting fish, well lizards?, in a anti-grav barrel.

Quill gets just a couple of shots off before his body hits the floor and he has to roll himself back up into a crouched position of style and wonder. He also has the luxury of ending up behind an already overturned table because bar fights are awesome like that. With chaos ensuing, the gravity mine should only be activated for another couple of moments and then they can have a different chat with Shady Xandarian Face.

"Wait! WAIT!" Quill's voice is trying to carry over the ruckus and music. "A million units //each//, right?! That's not like a group rate thing, is it?!"

Very important distinction there.

Gamora has posed:
The drink floats away. Liquid, like any matter, is just affected by gravity and in this case it sloshes through the air in droplets that the Xandarian is most displeased are not going into his mouth. Not that the other elements of this particular situation aren't causing their own displeasure, but truly he was excited about the beverage. It was part of his evil mastermind plan. Step 1. Capture the Guardians of the Galaxy. Step 2. Cool bad guy monologue. Step 3. Sip drink. Step 4. Profit.

"This is not how this was suppose to work out!" He shouts, demanding, in so many words, a do-over. And also pulling a blaster of his own which he fires at Quill. Who just so happens to have lept behind a table in time to see the wooden furnishing get swiss-cheesed rather than his body. Bar-fights are great, aren't they?

CRASH!

The music has stopped, but only because some big cethlopoid alien has used the synth musician as a bludgeoning weapon against a creature half his size. "AYEEEEEEE" Says the singer droid as both his arms go flying when the blow connects.

Rocket's plasma was, understandably, not set to stun. The Badoon have a pretty thick hide, but... listen, it's not plasma thick. It's kind of gory. Befitting one of a refined violent inclination such as the raccoon.

The others are having a hard time tracking him as he buzzes all around the little area and ends up standing horizontially on the wall with his grav-boots. They pepper up the wall trying to get a shot, but now they've got him lined up real good! And he's stationary...

And gravity returns...

While they were upside down.

CRACK! The Badoon hits the table first, which flips over and hits another Badoon in the marbles. Then the first hits the ground, right across the back of his big leathery shoulders.. Thankfully, his head took most of the fall. He's still awake, but only in that fumbling around, trying to stand up, but his legs are noodles kind of way that's pretty funny in most slap-stick comedies.

Rocket has posed:
"You think you're worth a million credits? Look at yourself." Rocket fires back, without the blaster's bite. "Seriously, Quill.." He //absolutely// refuses to call him STAR-LORD. Unequivocally.

Rocket can see the line of fire traversing the wall towards his particular location there, and with a dexterous leap he lands on one of the other Badoons, his hands a fit of flurry with all .. kilos of angry raccoon. Looking up from his handiwork, Rocket is in the air again, his blaster levelling at the poor imitation of an Overlord. READ THE ADVICE for Overlords. Never monologue. Kill first.

"This is exactly how it was supposed to work out," Rocket returns, his teeth showing. "And now I'm even more annoyed that I'm not gonna be able to drink my drink." Because they're going to have to beat feet, find Gamora and leave.

There's really nothing like a bar fight...

Peter Quill has posed:
"A million five! Easy!"

Quill blinks as the blaster shot comes through the table and he frowns. "Hey! Rude!" Quill leans over to peer through the hole made by that blast. It's a bit of an opportunity to try and negotiate. Or maybe distract the Xandarian so Rocket can do something more deadly. "Hey, listen! I've had my Phasers set to Stun this whole time! Why don't you just tell us where Gamora is and walk away so I don't have to make you look like you made this table look!"

Quill ducks back behind the table and holds his Quad Blasters high enough for them to be seen... kind of. And it looks like he's switching them off Stun mode! Gasp!

... yes, look over here and not at Rocket.

Gamora has posed:
The Xandarian growls from the ground, now wearing his beverage upon his head... "She left! She got what she wanted as payment and she left.. Which was a judgement error on my part, but one I shall not duplicate.. I should have had her help me capture you." That truly would have been very smart, but this isn't exactly Knowhere. So he isn't exactly a criminal mastermind.

<<"I AM Groot!">> The particulars of Groots vocabulation are what differentiate what he says from what he actually says. That's the nature of Flora Colossi. So while Peter may not have a clue what it is he's saying, Rocket can hysterically translate it for him during the middle of this very Guardians of the Bar fight! The long and short of it, 'Ship's running, Nova Corps is here, and they're about to lock down the starport. Time to go.'

Meanwhile there's only a few people still stan-

CRACK!

An Auscavarian, with all its many arms, uses several chairs as bludgeoning weapons against a few of the remaining bar-fighters who were still standing. It squaks and scooks in its native language, declaring itself the victor in this most glorious combat!

Behind the bar, strown with the unconscious bodies of various species who all groan and whine, littered with broken bottles and soaked with alcoholic beverages from all across the galaxy, slowly stands the Gridoran bartender... who peers at the distruction, the absolute carnage, and the total disregard for proper furnishings.. She frowns, "This town is getting to rough for me..." In a distinctly Mexican accent voice, harkoning back to Three Amigos. Which begs the question, if you have to explain the joke, is it actually funny?

Outside? The small little town is going ballistic. The sound of Nova Corps speeders (unmistakable) land, with their flashing Nova Corps lights, outside the bar/motel. "Gamora Zen Whoberi Ben Titan... We know you're in there... Come out with your hands up. You're under arrest." When she betrays someone, she goes all out, amirite?

The Gridoran slowly lowers back behind the bar.

Rocket has posed:
Rocket knows where Gamora was, at the very least, and she's not //here//, here right now. So, with the added information by his best friend in terms of the goings on from without, the raccoon is back in the air with one of his blasters holstered. The other is to make sure he can cover Quill in their hasty and required departure.

"Groot says we gotta go. Cops are here." He doesn't have to say that the engine is running and is ready to go the moment they get back. Going into hyperspace so close to a planet isn't ideal, but it does offer a better chance of not being followed... assuming one doesn't use the gates to emerge.

*cough*

"We gotta go, Quill. We'll talk about your bounty later." It's a matter of pride, Rocket gets it..

"We'll find Gamora." The inference is //later//.

Rocket starts towards the door, first flying, and then back onto his two back feet. "C'mon or I'll leave you to the Corpse." Yes, it was deliberate.

Peter Quill has posed:
"Gotta' be at least a million five. Right?"

Quill pops up from behind the table and just fires a last stun shot at the Xandarian without even looking in that direction. In fact, he's more worried about the lack of bounty. Or potential lack of it. He hasn't been keeping up with the BountyNet. "What, do I gotta' kill somebody or something?"

Quill twirls his Quad Blasters and holsters them on his way past the bar where, somehow, his Skandavarian Milkshake (Extra Mocha!) is still intact. All five straws. "Thanks." Quill offers with a wink at the bartending chick who is probably ducked down behind the bar by now but whatever. "Hail me." She gets tossed a Guardians of the Galaxy calling card and Quill puts some pep in his step to follow after Rocket.

"What about Groot? How much is Groot's bounty?" Quill sluuuuurrrrps on his shake. "Is it higher or lower than mine?" Sluuuurrrrp. "Rocket, is it higher or lower than mine?!"

Yeah, this is going to be a thing.

Gamora has posed:
The flight through this little dust-bowl of a port town is a quick one, with Nova Corps, mostly, following. Gamora doesn't come out with Peter and Rocket, so the cops are only interested in that they get out of the way! They barely even seem to recognize Peter. That's definitely going to hurt a little in the ego.

Still, they followed them, so that has to count for something right? Boarding the Milano in a hurry, the ship is, indeed, already ready for takeoff. Groot, however, is not a pilot. He can get it prepped, he's been with Rocket long enough to pick that much up, but anything outside of that? Nope.

So it shouldn't surprise anyone that he's sitting in the common area outside the cockpit with his back to the access hatch the pair enter from, turning with a big silly smile on his face! "I am Groot?" He asks of Rocket, then looks back to whatever he's doing on the table.

Which so happens to be one of Peter's board games.

Sorry. He's playing Sorry.

A green head tilts to one side, dark eyes rimmed in black makeup as Gamora grins at the arriving pair. She lifts her hand and waves her fingers in a little wiggle. "We should get going, we've got a few stops to make." No apologies. No explanations. The Most Dangerous Woman in the galaxy pushes up from her seat and walks towards the cockpit, laying a hand on Groot's shoulder as she passes.

"I am Groot."

"Yeah you are." She pats, "Yeah. You are."