15299/Rocket's Red Glare

Rocket's Red Glare
Date of Scene:	04 July 2023
Location:	Coney Island
Synopsis:	Peter Quill decides to prank Rocket by taking the team to a baseball game featuring different mascots, including a couple with a very similar appearance to his. (Note: the link to the mascot pics is safe. Imgur might give a warning.)
Cast of Characters:	Rocket, Peter Quill, Mary Jane Watson, Belinda Gutierrez, Drax, Gamora, Mantis

---

Rocket has posed:
"Are we there yet? Quill, I thought you knew how to navigate. You're a flarking space pilot and you can't even drive on your primitive humie roads without getting us lost? I swear to scut, this is one of the reasons why I wonder about you sometimes. One of the /many/ reasons."

Rocket's voice pipes up from the front passenger seat of the large white minivan Peter Quill is behind the wheel of, trying to get them to some destination in Brooklyn that he won't even tell anybody about yet. Crammed in there behind them? Gamora, Drax, Mantis, even Groot, who offers an uncomfortable, "I am Groot..."

Rocket answers, "I know, buddy. This is worse than any prison we've been in. At least he ain't trying to sing on top of it all."

Just where /are/ they going? Not far off is Coney Island. They can see the Wonder Wheel, the Cyclone, the long-unused parachute jump tower.

Peter Quill has posed:
It all seemed like such a good idea.

You know, back when he was still in space. Hit the ol' homestead, maybe check out how things had changed. And of course introduce Rocket -- and the others -- to the game of baseball. Not because he thinks his co-pilot on the Milano would like it. No, he has a whole, seperate purpose in mind.

That's what has kept him going during this interminable 'road trip'.

"Look, this isn't as easy as flying in space," Peter counters, sounding just a little defensive.

No, it hasn't been an easy trip. Traffic has been an absolute bitch -- as has the space racoon sitting beside him the whole time. "You can't just drive wherever you'd like. You have to follow these roads and obey all these signs."

Peter might have found that out the hard way.

But victory is at last in sight. The ballpark is just up ahead. With the windows rolled down it is already possible to hear the stadium's audio system announcing that the next batter is coming to the plate.

Yes, they're late. Surprise surprise. But it is totally not his fault. Stupid roads.

That white mini-van is parked -- only doing moderate damage to the fender of the car just behind them. Then it is just a matter of getting everyone out of the van. How did they fit both Groot and Drax in there? It might be better not to ask.

"So," Peter starts as he closes the car door behind him. But fails to lock it. That mini-van is not going to be here when they come back. "I got us a suite. But we don't exactly blend in, okay. I mean, this is New York and they're probably used to some pretty weird things. My gramps always said the lot of them were filthy degenerates. But still, just follow my lead," he urges.

It's such bad advice.

Leading them away from the main gate, Peter finds a section of concrete wall, glancing up and down it to see if anyone is taking notice. Then, pulling out a quartet of little discs he fixes them in place. A quiet hum sounds and suddenly, where the concrete wall was moments before is a gap, leading into the ballpark beyond.

The roar of the crowd picks up as the batter at the plate lines the pitch right back through the middle and into the outfield and Peter rubs his hands together. This is going to be great, no matter how rough a start they're off to. "Lets go. And don't get lost!"

It's a little rich coming from him.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson is here amongst the stands of the very, very small scale game. It's baseball season. Aunt Anna is a Mets fan. There's no way on her income that Mary Jane is affording tickets to any game on the 4th. So she's settled in to go to a minor league affiliate. It's 'buy four hot dogs for the price of one' given the holiday so she's got a layout of food spread about her in the area. She's carefully balancing a tray wiht her snacks, her soda, and the various other things she's bought to take along. SHe's wearing a baseball cap of the local stadium, an extra cheap t-shirt (thakn heavens for minor leagues understanding the budgets of their audience and marketing gimmicks). If she's got money leftover, she might even get one of those bobbleheads. All is looking pretty fair.

She's up for a relaxing day just wandering along and seeing what's going to be about. The stakes don't matter. Maybe there's some pitcher from the majors dumped down into the minors so they cna be babied up to the big leagues from an injury, but that's about the only sort of thing they might see wiht a name they recognize.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
For Belinda, a game of 'beisbol', however small, is a taste of home-- and a pang of homesickness, especially on a holiday. o/ "...Llevame al juego de beisbol...." /o she sings to herself the old song, sighing wistfully. o/ "Llevame a la multitud..." /o Even for small-time games-- some budgets are too small even for that. So-- no bleacher seat. Not even nosebleed section. Rather, under the chairs and bleachers, just fortunate enough to get a solid view of the infield!

But she has someone's cast-off giant foamy finger hands! Small victories.

Drax has posed:
Drax's hulking frame simply fills the space.  Like a brick wall, it isn't budging for anyone.  His presence looms in Peter's rearview mirror, which he shares with Groot.

"No.  At least he is not dancing.  We would surely have a wreck then."  Once they finally peel out of the minivan, he waits by with a grunt for Peter to set them free.  "So slow," he complains with a shake of his head before bursting through to see just what everyone is looking at.

"WHERE ARE ALL THE BALLS QUILL?!" Drax whips his head from dugout to announcer box.

Gamora has posed:
For most of the trip, Gamora rode with one hand clinging to the over-window 'oh shit' handle and the other casually spinning her double-bladed switchblade -- which was only /one/ of the blades she had on her person (and not the most obvious of them). A couple of times, when Peter hit the brakes particularly hard, she had to grab it just to keep it from flying out and hitting him in the back of the head. Which she did. Because even though she was glaring at him when it happened, she didn't /actually/ want to stab him, today. Yet.

"Maybe you could let Rocket help you navigate, Peter," she'd suggested helpfully at one point, though her tone made it sound more like a complaint than anything more helpful.

When the minivan turned clown car 'parks' in the stadium parking lot, Gamora *snaps* those blades back in and clips it back onto her belt, climbing out with a lengthy stretch and a roll of her head from one side to the other.

The cheers from the stadium were already loud, even from the parking lot, and the announcer's voice echoed loud enough to be felt in her chest.

"What are we doing here, Peter?" She didn't actually expect a response. This whole thing had been some kind of surprise, and it was obvious that the 'surprise' part had not yet been sprung. At least, she hoped that was obvious. Was it obvious?

"Is this something about our next job?... You know I don't like surprises."

But they were already walking towards the stadium, then, the van entirely forgotten, and the 'doorway' is opened in the outside of the wall. A sudden cheer from the crowd is deafening, and she's squinting against the noise, looking around like she was expecting someone to come lunging out of the stands at them at any second.

"WHAT IS THIS PLACE?!"

Mantis has posed:
    Mantis has not dressed up for the occasion. She wears her usual form-fitting martial arts inspired outfit, green with black trim, which leaves her shoulders exposed. She spent much of the walk from the van to the stadium with her head on a swivel. Every New Yorker they passed got to see a pair of wide, black eyes and antennae on high alert. Each time, Mantis would eventually relax before immediately finding something new and exciting to astonish her.

    The only departure from this comes just a beat after Gamora announces that she doesn't like surprises. Mantis suddenly leaps towards her with both hands held out like claws. "Gamora!" she shouts, belting out the other woman's name as loud as she can for some reason. After holding that pose, Mantis recoils and smiles widely at Drax, rising a bit on her toes to see if he saw her be scary. Drax told her that being scary is useful, after all.

    "I am useful," she reminds Drax on her way through Peter's homemade entrance.

Rocket has posed:
Rocket mutters, "Yeah, Quill. Let me help you on these crazy roads. At least in space, there isn't this much traffic. Can you..ugh..possibly run this thing any worse? That engine is practically /crying/ at how you're treating it!" How can Peter Quill be such a good pilot, which even Rocket has to admit is the case, yet be such a bad driver? It might have had something to do with being space-napped as a kid, long before ever handling a car or truck.

Groot flows out of the van more than steps out, the last one to do so behind everyone else. Rocket's hands settle at his hips. He's in his jumpsuit, for lack of anything better to go out on the town in, and he flashes Peter a very skeptical look. "This is your grand idea? Please tell me you didn't drag us all the way back to this mudball to go to a baseball game. Yeah, I saw those paper card things with the pictures and numbers on them. I had to use a few of 'em to clean up after Drax wasted all of the toilet paper on the Milano. What was that guy's name on one of them? Michael Mantle or something? Whoever. It looked old, and I don't know why you had a piece of paper in between that plastic. Anyway, I smell food, and it's even fresh."

There's popcorn, hot dogs, burgers, nachos, fries, funnel cakes, and a bunch else.

It's also Fireworks Night AND Mascot Night, as the fans already packing the place have found out. The Brooklyn Cyclones are wearing special July 4-themed jerseys, featuring red, white, and blue with stars and stripes designs.

Somehow, most of them get up to the suite Quill's got without too much incident, and Rocket ignores the game so far in lieu of stuffing his face with the food provided.

Groot watches the game below, a thoughtful expression on his wooden face before he sits down to start working on something hidden from the others.

A low murmur begins to spread while play continues, as a few people nearby have begun to spot those who are more in view. Between innings, a few of the mascots come out on the field for a skit, including people dressed up like some sort of snake, a couple of ponies, and the team's own eagle mascots.

OOC: https://imgur.com/a/7tZPCmV for a set of pictures and names

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson goes to arch her neck as she hears just a bit of surprise going through the crowd. She goes to swivel before she heads up and over to the stands tos ee what's getting all the attention. The mascots are up and out and a minor league game isn't going to have anyone drop by that's actually known today. Everyone's at the hot dog eating competition in Coney Island. So when she sees the group arriving she goes to squint. is that a Kree? No, it's not. Well, looks like there are some surprises in town.

She goes to take out her comm and speaks to it quietly. Sending up a quick comm to the SWORD receiver. <<Group of extraterrestrials. No alert.>> Jus giving a heads up to anyone down the line. They didn't look like they had any Brood in them so that was fair. And then she sees Rocket and lets out a groan.

Well, now she's definitely heading in that direction. Looking down at her food, she goes to get ou ta large plastic bag from her backpack, stuffs it all in there, toppings and all, andg oes to head over in that direction. Well.. Looks like her relaxing afternoon's going to be put off for awhile.

Peter Quill has posed:
If the Guardians thought the trip getting here was a little rough, they haven't seen nuthin' yet.

Of course if Peter thought he heard a lot of complaining during their impromptu road trip to Coney Island, that's probably nothing compared to what the static is going to be like when they get back to the parking spot and find out their oh so stylish mini-van is long gone.

So basically everything evens out. And the odds of Peter being punched, kicked or stabbed before the night's through are about the same as they always are.

Pretty high.

Peeking through that opening that leads into the ballpark -- at least temporarily -- Peter looks to make things are mostly clear. Or he would at least if Drax didn't just barge right past him. The gap in the wall he's created isn't exactly huge so Quill ends up flattened against the side before slumping to the ground. "I'm okay," Peter wheezes, waving a hand.

Maybe now he knows what it was like to be stuffed into the back of that mini-van.

Scrambling back to his feet and abandonning all pretense of trying to sneak in, the oh so famous Star-Lord calls back, "Good job Mantis. Way to keep Gamora on her toes," he praises. "Bonus, I imagine you can work on your self defense. You know what to do if she comes at you with a knife," he adds.

He's pretty much presuming that she does anyway. They'll probably find out for sure, one way or another.

"Look, this isn't a surprise," Peter says, glancing back Gamora's way. Which is a lie. It is very much a surprise. One that Peter has been rather gleefully anticipating. "And it's not about our next job. I just, you know, thought it would be nice to get out, spend some time together," he says oh so innocently.

And maybe watch Rocket go ballistic. You know, good ol' fashioned family fun.

Rocket gets a glare when he starts to complain again. "No, we're not just on Earth to watch a game," he snaps back. Which is another lie. At least until Peter thinks up another valid reason for them being here. He might want to get working on that. "Look, lets just find our seats, maybe pick up a few eats on the way. My treat." Which is a pretty good hint that Peter is definitely up to something. "Trust me Rocket, you're not going to want to miss this," he assures his co-pilot.

"Now hurry up. People are starting to stare," he says, pointing as he spots their particular suite of seats.

But just who they're staring at is a fair question.

Either way, the ballgame is playing out across the field, a roar going up from the spectators as another line drive brings in the first run of the game. At least they haven't missed too much with their late arrival.

Drax has posed:
"Well done," Drax says to Mantis in a stage whisper behind Gamora's back.  She gets two thumbs up.  Today someone was able to get Drax into a BigOleHoodie.  It's the only thing that stretched enough for the job.  "You got her good," he says with one hand stuffed into the pocket and the other he rests on Mantis' shoulder for a brief moment before she walks off.

"Peter got her good."  Drax chuckles, unafraid of unknown danger, as always.  That's more sensible people's job to think about.  Danger.  Or surprises.  Like Gamora!  He'll let her think about the inherent danger of a stadium full of roaring strangers on an unfamiliar planet and whatever god they are about to sacrifice the balls to.

Once they find their seats, Drax has to wait for everyone to get seated like a gentleman before he climbs over everyone like a savage to get to his next to Mantis.  He doesn't make excuses for his body, showing about as much concern for where his butt might be as he did for Peter when he barged through the makeshift stadium opening.

"So we are here to watch...this," he indicates the bevy of goofy mascots prancing around.  It's a question, but also a statement, but also a question.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
It's a ballgame! Cheering crowds! Thumping feet. The groans of misery. Along with the occasional "He wuz robbed!" complaint tossed at the umpire.

And the *mascots*.

"....Dios," Belinda groans to herself, giggling madly. "Those are the most *loco*-crazy things I have ever--"

Self-commentary stops as she catches a shout from one side, the barest glance become a full-blown stare. She Hulk? The Jolly Hoodied Giant? An old school biker? Nice jacket though. Otherwise...

Words fail to describe. The ball game forgotten as she *stares*. "...caramba."

Gamora has posed:
Peter is withholding details. Rocket is providing turn-by-turn driving assistance. They've been crammed into a van like sardines for she's not even sure how long, and /someone/ smells. Gamora is less than thrilled with the initial prospects of this adventure.

So, by the time Drax goes rushing past Peter and flattening him to the wall on the way by, Gamora was already on edge. Having Mantis scream-leap at her actually sees her lunge, startled, to one side and grab for blade -- which she stops just short of unsheathing.

Which was good. By this point, they were approaching sight of the the crowd (even if they weren't exactly the stars of the show), so walking in while swinging a blade at a woman with head-tentacles probably wasn't the ideal way to make an entrance.

Of course, when she realizes it was just 'Mantis being Mantis,' her jaw sets. "How is /that/ useful?!" Then her gaze snaps over to Peter, her eyes narrowing. "Don't encourage /that/." And then DRAX is jumping onboard and she throws her hands up in the air, eyes rolling up as if searching for a reprieve from some sort of deity.

The statement that this isn't a surprise and that Peter just 'wanted to spend some time together' gets nothing more than a skeptical glare, but she follows along, feline stride ever-ready for YET ANOTHER surprise... even if it came from within HER OWN TEAM. Mantis gets another glare, too.

Gamora's feeling particularly broody tonight, apparently. Which isn't made any better by the fact that, after she takes her seat, she's /forced/ to scoot over to make room for Drax between herself and Mantis.

Mantis has posed:
    Mantis stands there like a dope, totally unaware of just how much she should be fearing Gamora's blade. "Thank you, Drax," Mantis replies, beaming up at the bigger one, happy that he noticed her effort to be useful. How is that useful, though?

    "Because it is scary!" Mantis explains to Gamora, her mouth curling into a proud smile. Her antennae bob up and down, as if nodding to affirm it. She expects that Gamora will get it, of course. Being scary is useful.

    The walk to their seats has been mostly uneventful, but once she finds her spot next to Gamora, Mantis seems to sit up a bit straighter, holding a more serious posture. After a few moments, Mantis turns to look at Gamora and silently opens her mouth to expose her teeth. She puts them away.

    A moment later, Mantis shows her teeth to one of Gamora's cheeks again. Grrrr. This new display of scary gets interrupted by...

    "Draaaaax!" Mantis cries out, her expression souring as the Destroyer seems to wedge himself between herself and Gamora. Her antennae dart upwards for a moment and then curl back down as she settles.

    "We can't tell Cosmo about this," Mantis reminds Drax, eyeing the hot dog vendor walking up the aisle.

Rocket has posed:
Rocket snaps, "Don't touch me, Quill!" Whether he was or wasn't. "I don't care about your stupid fragging Earth sports!" He looks around at the rest of the group, adding, "Watch what?" as Drax calls attention to the skit between innings. By the time Rocket sees anything, they've mostly disappeared back under a tunnel leading to another area of the ballpark, so the action is the main focus.

Along with them, of course.

A few other mascots wander the main concourse. There's a colorful pair of goats, a shark in a Hawaiian shirt, a few other bird-like things, male and female dragons. All typically in uniform tops for the teams they represent.

Rocket stuffs his face with a few hot dogs, complete with buns and other condiments, plus some other toppings that don't normally go with them. Groot continues to work on his project, in between staring at the game below.

Then, it happens. The moment Peter Quill was no doubt waiting for. Another set of outs is made, and while the pitcher gets his warmup throws in, more mascots file out. Some squirrel looking like a superhero. A mean-looking chihuahua. A pirate wolf.

"What. The flark. Is that?" comes Rocket's voice, tinged with annoyance by the time the question finishes. Tinged? More like loaded. The chihuahua mascot is looking up toward them, gesturing as if it wants a fight. "Are you threatening me?"

Rocket stands atop the railing, calling down toward it with an accusing finger pointed in its direction. The poor guy in the suit probably thinks this is all part of the show, making like a boxer wanting to go a few rounds.

With a low growl, Rocket activates his personal jet pack, which allows him to zip down to the field where he grabs one of the bats in the on-deck circle. "Biggest mistake of your life, pal," he warns. In his hands, with his small stature, the bat looks oversized. Then he runs up on the chihuahua, the guy inside by now starting to wonder what's really going on here, and he swings it! Being not very tall, the best he can do is sort of clip the mascot in the side, but oh the reaction from the crowd. Do they think it's all some joke, too?

While this is going on, two more mascots are coming out onto the field in foul territory: a pair of raccoons from two different teams.

Peter Quill's moment has nearly arrived, as the chihuahua yelps and runs off...right past them.

Rocket actually grips the bat hard enough to snap it in half, staring. One raccoon is from the Quad Cities River Bandits, with a hat on like some ne'er-do-well might wear. The other is from the Rocket City Trash Pandas, with a garbage can styled as part of a blue jumpsuit.

"Peter Quill, you scruff-chewing, filthy, scutstained grudscum, I am going to flarking make you eat your own.." The words don't reach the rest of the way, as he goes into a run toward the two costumed raccoons with the intent to maul them. At least that's what it looks like.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
So much for a quiet day.. Then the dog is being chased and.. Whatever the heck is going on. Mary Jane goes to rub at her temples some and debates what the hell to do. The inner part of her that is her other is finding this hilarious and far, far better than the slow, boring, and tedious game that is going on. She pinches her nose and then just goes to lean over against the nearest railing where she can keep a clear line of sight over to the group in the stands, and the ones on the field to be able to get in the middle of things if they escalate. But.. This is pretty tame by the standards of New York. There's no alien firearms out and on display even.

So, that makes it fairly tame by the last few weeks of her life in the field. So she just pays more attention to them than the game. And probably has more fun.

Peter Quill has posed:
Look, this all could have been a lot worse. Drax could have been jamming that behind in the faces of random strangers instead of their own. That would have surely gotten them some attention.

Though, on the other hand it would have spared Peter, who makes a face, turning his head to the side and holding up a hand in front of him. "Ugh, bro, c'mon," he complains, leaning back just as far as humanly possible.

But it's still not enough. It is never enough. Again, his plan has had something of a mixed result today. So that would be par for the course, then?

The other big problem with this scheme of his? The fact that he ever really thought they could go unnoticed. Suites at a minor league ballpark like this are not exactly oases of privacy. There is also the fair point that clearly Quill is looking to cause a little trouble. So why go to the trouble of trying to avoid attention?

That would definitely be one of those little details that Peter didn't give a whole lot of thought to. His plans occasionally have the odd... hole in them. Sometimes they're only really half formed. Sometimes he gets about tweleve percent of a plan.

The important thing is that they tend to work out in the end.

As that hotdog vendor nears, Peter motions him over, digging into his pocket to pull out a wad of crumpled bills. It's probably best not to ask just where he got his hands on any of the local currency. It's another detail where it's best not to know too much.

Spoils the mystery.

"Hot dogs for everyone," Peter announces in oh so chipper fashion, beginning to pass down his haul along the line. "Gamora, take a load off. Have a hot dog. Kick back and watch the show. It's all going fine," Quill insists with that winning smile, supremely confident as is so often the case.

His hand does snap out though, nearly knocking that offered hot dog from Gamora's hand as he points down the row as the batter down on the field pops up the latest pitch, the ball going nearly straight up, temporarily lost in the glare of those bright lights. "Mantis! Pop-quiz! The Infield Fly rule. Spill," he urges.

Of course he lectured them all on the rules of the game while they were in the mini-van o nthe way here. Mostly he got them wrong. Look, he was eight years old when he was space-napped. It's lucky that he remembers much about the game at all.

Of course, that's also the moment that Quill has been waiting for. Waiting for since he first planned this impromptu trip home. Was it for nostalgia? Was it maybe to check up on the family he left behind so long ago?

Nope. It was largely for one big joke at Rocket's expense. He might have a few immaturity issues to work.

"Yes!" he shouts, rising to his feet, arms raised over his head, a moment of true, primitive Kubrickian glee.

The crowd watches the sudden disturbance along the sidelines, watches as Rocket goes ballistic. Out there, in the depths of space, any smart sentient would probably be running for the hills by now. The 4th of July baseball crowd on Coney Island?

They're eating it up. Cheers rain down from the stands, watching as that Chihuahuha mascot goes running.

And Quill? His voice cuts through the crowd. "Hey Rocket! Meet Sprocket, the Trash Panda! I'm just glad I could be here for this family reunion!"

Drax has posed:
"It made me laugh," Drax explains to Gamora as if the obviousness of Mantis getting scary with Gamora were as plain as day.  "Quill brought us here to make fun of Rocket," Drax observes with a sigh as if it hasn't happened a thousand times already.  "At least there is meat.  But yes.  I will not tell Cosmo if you do not tell Cosmo.  About the hot dogs."  He separates out the words unnecessarily.  Apparently this is more important than battling the mascots on Rocket's behalf.  He's doing a fine job of it.  "Mantis.  Don't answer, it's a trap," don't answer Peter that is.

"Once he starts, he won't stop," with the baseball rules that is.  He's already scarfed down one hot dog after passing one down to Mantis.  "He is like an aunt of mine," he says with all sincerity.  "Oh I will help you," Drax just reaches over and takes Mantis' hot dog from her hands into his fist and takes a big hunk out of it.  It remains imprisoned in his meaty grip.

Gamora has posed:
/Because it is scary./ Gamora reached up to rub the bridge of her nose between her eyes where the headache was starting to radiate from. She should have stayed on the ship. Someone needed to stay behind and guard the ship, right? It's Terra. There are criminals aplenty.. and some of them weren't even Guardians.

Still, by the time they've reached their seats, the green-skinned Gamora seems to have made her peace with Mantis's antics, and though she side-eyes the other woman when those teeth are bared, by the second time it happens, there's the faintest hint of a quirk of a grin. So, maybe she wasn't having the /worst/ time of her life.

And then there's Drax, and it's either shuffle to the side or get squished, and though she's shoulder to shoulder with the big brute for a moment, she does manage to scoot over a little bit more towards Peter.. and focus her attention on the unlikely wad of currency he was producing.

"What is a... hot dog?"

Of course, the question is asked just before she's helping pass them down, and when she's finally just holding her own, she stares at it. Then looks up at Peter. Then stares at it some more. She doesn't look like she's 'taken a load off,' as he suggested, either, even if she is sitting down.

"What's in it?"

That's the most unfortunate question you can ask about a hot dog, of course, but how was she supposed to know? It doesn't really matter, though, as Peter's exuberance to quiz Mantis makes her fumble it and she squeezes it a death grip that crushes it, revealing a questionably textured interior. "Can you..?!.. Ew... Is this like the rations on Karo 7?!"

And then... Rocket. Oh, Rocket. For a moment, Gamora just watches the spectacle, stunned silence gradually shifting to wide-eyed horror.

"You /knew/ this was going to happen!" she yells, standing and setting her smooshed hot dog down on the seat behind her. "Peter, do you /want/ an arrest warrant on Terra?! We have to go get him, now!"

Mantis has posed:
    "But I know the answer!" Mantis insists quickly.

    "The infield fly rule!" Mantis announces, raising her voice so Peter can hear her. As it happens, her announcement has captured the minds of all the nearby spectators, too. Sure, she has large, black eyes. And, yes, she has a pair of antennae sticking out from her forehead. But, at this moment, the most unusual thing about Mantis is that she might be able to describe the infield fly rule and... no one on planet Earth can do that.

    The humans eagerly wait for Mantis to explain it.

    "The infield fly rule is what happens if someone hits the ball higher than they're allowed to. Everyone closes their eyes and they have to catch the ball, but if they peek then they have to Go to Jail, Go Directly to Jail, and they Don't Pass Go or Collect Two Hundred Dollars." Mantis nods her head and looks around at all of the baseball fans listening to her explain the infield fly rule. She's about to say more, but then a traditional Terran food has been delivered. Mantis stares down at the hotdog placed in her hands. Her antennae droop slightly as she considers the strange looking food. She's about to say something about it, something useful, something scary, no doubt, but then... it's gone. Her eyes fill with moisture. "...Cosmo....." she whimpers, just shy of a full-on sob.

    Mantis doesn't have long to mourn the loss of her friend, though, before Peter announces the Rocket/Sprocket family reunion! Mantis stands up from her seat and claps her hands excitedly, overwhelmed by the sudden shift of emotion. "A family reunion!" she cries out, unable to contain the sheer joy she's feeling.

    She does find time, however, to turn to frown at Drax. A hand is placed on his forearm as Mantis' antennae begin to glow. "You should feel bad for eating Cosmo," she states.

Rocket has posed:
Rocket scowls as he hears Quill even over the rising roar of the crowd. "Sprocket? Flark you, Quill! And what's a trash panda? We ain't related!" Even if they know by now what Rocket's true origins were. They had to take him to Halfworld to be fixed up when he was nearly killed during a battle with the Black Order. Begrudgingly, there's even been a time or two where he accepted hearing 'raccoon' mentioned. This is not one of them.

"I am Groot!" waves the large flora colossi, frantically trying to get Rocket to calm down, but it's not as easy for him to get from where they are down to the field. Not for lack of trying, as he begins to step over this and that. Dozens, if not hundreds of phones are now out to record this. It could turn into an international, galactic incident. It could ruin the 4th of July forever. It could put mascots in ICU.

The pair in the raccoon costumes back away slowly and carefully, hands going up in defensive postures in conflict with their oversized, happy-looking heads, as Rocket pauses only a few feet away with both ends of the bat held like potential wooden stakes. His glare is evident, ears flattened, lips curled up into a snarl, his tail gone poofy and agitated. What will he do? What about the rest of the Guardians?

Between-inning throws have ended on the field, mainly because the players themselves don't know what to make of this. They like large crowds - who doesn't? - but this isn't something they were expecting to see. Even the pair of umpires at this level of pro ball give way, quickly moving to confer with each other about what to do.

With all eyes mostly on Rocket, what he does next could decide the path of this interruption. "What the flark are you supposed to be? You ain't raccoons. Are you trying to taunt me?" They don't normally speak, but the one Quill named as Sprocket still has his hands up, shaking his head. Maybe even trembling. Anyone who saw a couple of the videos and ads the Guardians put up a year or two back might remember some of this crew, Rocket especially, when they sought money in exchange for taking people on trips to space.

"N-no! We love you! You're awesome!" comes a slightly muffled voice from within that big head. It's enough to make Rocket stop in his quest to destroy everything around him, or at least maim someone.

"...what? You're not mocking me?" Now it's his turn to look confused as Groot gets down there to extend a few branches as a way of added separation.

"I am Groot! I am Groot!" He's trying to help keep the peace.

Almost hesitantly, after a quick check of his phone, the stadium's public address announcer speaks into the mic while squinting at the reduced text he's reading as others in the small press box try to figure out how to salvage this. "Please, uh, welcome tonight's special surprise guests: the Gardeners? Yes, Gardeners of the Galaxy!" That's it, get everyone to think it's just for show. More cheers, along with people questioning the name given.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Well, it looks like things haven't escalated. There's no signs of anything beyond a.. Group of eccentrics from beyond the stars in otwn for a baseball game. If they were on Coney Island no one would probably notice. As the call goes out for the 'Gardeners of the Galaxy' she glances over at Groot. It fits, somehow. She goes to take up her hands and goes to break into applause. Acting like one of those people that just thought it was some new, different show going on. It's rather fun. And a lot better than she had expected.

So within sight of those talking about eating hot dogs/what was in hot dogs, Mary Jane goes to reach into her backpack, grabs a few napkins, and then goes to carefully extract one of the horribly squished, toppings smeared over everywhere in plastic bag of them, Carefully holding it over in her hand, she goes to take a bite out of it. Who was winning? She couldn't actually care less.

Taking a mometn to use one hand to applaud once more, turning so she could keep an eye on the team up in the stands.

Drax has posed:
"Very good."  Drax has taken to blindly encouraging Mantis for his own amusement lately.  The way he feels it, they are both having fun.  Besides, he doesn't know what the infield fly rule is.  He only knows he wants to Pass Go.  Besides, Mantis sounds very sure of herself.

The big brute is in the middle of chowing down on some hot dog when he feels the sting of something grow inside his chest, curled up and unfurling as it blankets his entire visage in a droop.  "Oh..."  He sniffs.  "But you taste so good," he mumbles as tears begin to stream down his cheeks because he knows what he's going to do anyways.  CHOMP.  CHOMPITY-SOB-CHOMP.  "I'm-so-sorry."

Peter Quill has posed:
Admittedly, any pretense about blending in has pretty much evaporated by now. Not a one of them hasn't casued some sort of scene or stir.

So it is pretty much just like anywhere else they go really. They can dress 'em up, clean 'em up but take 'em out at your own risk. And the risk of anyone else in their general vicinity.

As much as he might be savoring this moment of triumph, his much anticipated prank finally arriving -- and his reward for putting up with a mini-van full of Guardians for an excruciating road trip -- that doesn't mean Peter has stopped paying attention to the rest of the team. The jubilant grin can't be wiped from his face as he glances down the row once more. "Mmmmm, good try Mantis," he says, as if he is somehow the voice of experience here. "But I'm pretty sure the two hundred dollar thing is actually from a board game. The one with Boardwalk and Park Place. Mmmmmm, Scrabble. I think that's what it was called."

Swing and a miss.

When Mantis starts to quietly berate Drax over the feasting on Cosma, Peter starts to interject once more, to correct the misunderstanding. But he pauses and considers. He did get a facefull of Drax's ample behind. That deserves some recompensence. And this day doesn't just have to be limited to Rocket afterall. "You're a monster Drax. Poor Cosmo," he chides with a shake of his head.

Apparently he is going to ignore the fact that he paid for their feast of Cosmo, the HotDog. All in all, Peter is pretty good at abdicating responsibility when he wants to. It's a gift.

Escaping Gamora's annoyance might be more tricky though, even for him. So Peter falls back on a tried and true method.

Blame someone else.

Turning that overly wide, innocent gaze towards the flatly steamed assassin, Quill holds his hands up in front of him. "It wasn't me," he insists. Lie. "Okay, it wasn't just me." That's a lie too. "It was Groot's idea!" he insists, pointing towards the plant-being trying to bring peace to the chaos below.

"I AM GROOT!"

"No, I'm not lying!" Quill snaps back, though he does sneak a peek at Gamora beside him before sighing quietly. "Fine, fine. Lets go stop anyone from getting their blood spilled. Or eyes clawed out," he says with a much put-upon sigh. Pretty much ignoring that he is ultimately responsible for it all.

Edging out into the aisle, Peter starts down the stairs when the announcement comes out over the public address system. "/Guardians/. It's Guardians of the Galaxy. Why can't anyone ever get that right," he mutters.

He's no longer having quite so good a time.

Gamora has posed:
"Mantis, I don't know what the infield fly rule is, but that's /not/ it." Pointedly, Gamora's eyes shift from Mantis to Drax and back, her plea of 'Would you all stop teaching her bad habits?!' clear. "It doesn't even make any..." And then Drax is sobbing while he stuffs his face full of hot dog.

Then Peter's shaming Drax. And you know what? Let him. No matter that there's WAY more hot dogs being served than a single Cosmo could provide. Or that PETER was the one that acquired them.

It's in her eyes when she looks at him. He's /definitely/ busted. But Gamora says nothing about /that/ particular infraction.

"Yeah, it /looks/ like it was Groot's idea." Gamora's voice drips with sarcasm, but she's already trying to shoo Peter out and down towards the field. Then there's the announcer, and she's looking up, too.

"GUARDIANS!" she shouts at the same time Peter does, side-eyeing hip as they make their way down to the field. "Right? Gardeners doesn't even make any sense."

Soon enough, she's smoothly vaulting over onto the field, striding out towards the rabid racoon. "Rocket! They're not making fun of you! But we're over-staying our welcome! We need to go!" Of course, with the crowd still cheering, she raised a hand and awkwardly waved at the audience, her smile more 'kill me now' than 'look at me.'

Mantis has posed:
    "Yes, we saw the boardwalk on the way to baseball," Mantis reminds Peter. Coney Island /does/ have a boardwalk, after all. She'd defend her answer further, but Drax is being... "Draaaaax!" Mantis shouts, glaring at The Destroyer. "Stop eating Cosmo!" Without questioning it, she begins to make her way to the aisle to follow Peter down to the field. "We're the Gardeners of the Galaxy?" she confirms, looking up at Gamora for some idea of how to respond. "I thought we were Guardians..." Mantis' attention naturally falls to Groot and then, ultimately, all the grass in the outfield. "...Ohhh!" Gardeners.

    "No, no, Gardeners, Gamora! We're Gardeners!" Mantis corrects, following her towards the field like she thinks she's supposed to. But... TROUBLE!

    Mantis' antennae rise. She turns to see a red-haired human picking up bits of hotdog. She's trying to steal the remains of...

    "COSMO!" Mantis screams. She begins to run as quickly as she can towards Mary Jane Watson!

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
The way that Gamora is acting is clearly that of the adult in the group of crazed lunatics. Mary Jane can go ahead and quickly spare her a look of sympathy that's likely missed by the alien assassin, right as she's suddenly having Mantis go to run right towards her. She hadn't been tracking the conversation, but just having Mantis suddenly charge over at her..
    Automatically, she goes over into a defensive stance to brace herself to ready to receive the charge! Rather than try and meet it directly, presuming that Mantis keeps on running right at her, she goes to quickly swing her backpack over like a sling as Mantis would ruN! Her intent is to make Mantis have to dodge to the side or have her momentum slowed up by the impact.. Whereupon Mary Jane would then attempt to try and lightly flip her. The maneuver is done very gently - there's got to be some sort of misunderstanding giong on - so she's not going full power. Of course, Mantis can very likely dodge it herself - she has very good speed.

Rocket has posed:
The crowd cheering. The announcer screwing up the team's name. That, at least, draws a low chuckle out of Rocket even as he imagines how much that must bother Quill. Serves him right.

He's sizing up the taller mascots, mainly because they're humies in costumes, and he crosses his furry arms as Groot makes sure there isn't going to be any blood spilled here. Now Gamora's coming onto the field, Quill's headed that way too, Groot's already there. Drax is sobbing and Mantis is being Mantis as she finds someone to chastise over the not-Cosmo dogs.

"...flark. Flarking flark." Rocket looks displeased over this, no matter how good or bad the raccoon mascot suits are. There have been places around Knowhere and beyond that made use of people dressing up in silly outfits to help sell things or entertain others. The concept is not completely lost on him. All the same...

He steps back from Groot, away from Gamora, turning around to take in the whole sight of the ballpark with its unique light towers that draw inspiration from the neon flavors of the nearby boardwalk, from the parachute jump tower cycling through its own coloring, then he stares at the baseball players, the broken bat left behind on the field.

Groot sweeps that up somewhere within his foliage, while producing a rather good bat of his own to offer with a smile to the player due up next. A gesture of peace? The home plate umpire ventures boldly closer to hold up a hand. "Ah, is that regulation?"

"Why do we have to go? There's still food I haven't eaten, and these humies clearly love me." Rocket gestures around at them, every movement drawing more of a roar from them. They've found their fun.

They haven't even reached the point of the fireworks show yet!

Peter Quill has posed:
See? Occasionally Gamora and him can get on the same side of things and Peter annoyance at the announcer's error -- understandable as it might be thanks to Groot's presence -- is temporarily abated, replaced by that familiar, cocky grin.

It won't last though.

Getting out to the field, he is moderately surprised to see that there has been no real violence done, nothing that is likely to get them plastered on a 'Wanted' poster. Again. While Groot's efforts at peacekeeping might have helped, he is still a little surprised to see that Rocket has restrained himself.

Maybe it's hard to work up a good rage when several thousand people are raining cheers down on you. Peter wouldn't really know.

"See? See?" Quill says, nudging Gamora lightly in the side before taking a quick step away before she is tempted to break, twist, or bend painfully any of his extremities. "All's well that ends well," he insists, completely ignoring the fact that she has already called bullshit on his -- maybe -- obvious lies. "He makes a good point. I, for one, would like to stay to see the fireworks..." he says, maybe cajoling just a little. Who could say no to that face!

Of course, he might have last his vote in this whole affair.

And then, of course, there is the matter of Mantis. That cry for the Guardians very much alive dog draws Quill's attention as she goes after the redhead in the stands. "Mantis, no! It's not actually Cosmo," he yells, hoping to stave off the inevitable.

He's not out of the woods here yet. He could still land up in big, big trouble. Not with the authorities, mind you.

With Gamora. That's waaaaaaay worse.

Gamora has posed:
"We are NOT Gardeners!" Gamora sighs at Mantis. Of course, she assumed Mantis was coming the whole way to help them fetch Rocket, so when veers off, it warrants a sideways glance. Where /was/ she going?

But then she's trying to get Rocket to calm down so they can make a retreat before the Terran authorities show up, and /that/ takes a second because. "Why?!"

Even Peter's there, nudging her, and she looks over at him with what has become less of a withering and more of a motherly glare. "Because he tried to break /that one's/ leg, threatened to impale /them/, and /everyone/ knows we're here."

That last one was really the worst part of it. There was a point in Gamora's life when she might have readily murdered all of the mascots just to keep them quiet. It wasn't the violence. It was the fact that he was doing it IN FRONT OF AN AUDIENCE.

/Mantis, no!/

Gamora sighs, putting on her serious face as she looks between Peter and Rocket. "Fine. But NO MORE VIOLENCE." She even points at both of them, one at a time, so you know she's serious.

And then she's running towards Mantis and MJ to try to fix /that/ situation.

Mantis has posed:
    Mantis comes at Mary Jane at full speed! "Cosmo!" she cries out. She can't hear Peter. She can't hear Gamora. It's just her, the red head, and bits of her friend in a little plastic baggie. Mantis is about to totally save the day, rescue what remains of Cosmo so they can give him a proper burial-at-space, and clobber Mary Jane into the ground thanks to her lifetime of martial arts training...

    ...that's locked away in that sweet, innocent brain of hers...

    "Huuuahhh!" is the guttural sound that comes from Mantis as Mary Jane Watson flips her over instead. Mantis crashes into a row of wooden baseball bats that have been carefully arranged by the home team's bat boy. Threat neutralized!

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson would just shake her head over and let Mantis land. THen go to hold her hands up and over in the air to show she wasn't threatening. Then glancing over at Gamora over her shoulder, and moving to keep her hands over to the side and then there's fireworks, things burning, and chaos..
    Oh, wait, in ways that are normal for the Fourth of July. Well.. Mary Jane just shakes her head over at the disengaging Guardians, having a feeling that whatever is going on she really doesn't /want/ to know more. What she files in a completely mundane report at lowest level priority is something that is not going to get Abigail Brand's attention and thus her body intact for the forseeable future. "Uh.. Sorry." Is offered over to Mantis. And MJ has to wonder if that offer from the Asgardians is still open..

Rocket has posed:
"The stupid mutt deserved it, Gamora," Rocket tells her matter-of-factly where the chihuahua mascot is concerned. "He was looking at me all funny." Nevermind the fact that, too, is all in how the mascot is made to look.

But, the game must go on, unintentional and entertaining interruptions aside. None of this really changes his opinion of Earth, but if put to the question later he might have to admit this is another thing he'll accept more than not. Adulation and adoration from a few thousand people is only just right.

They get the field cleared off so the players can resume, but as long as they're here there's going to be a distraction from people who want a moment of their time. That means pictures. It also means threats from Rocket when hands get too close.

In the end, a few fireworks happen on the field (and off it depending on how long Mantis, Mary Jane, and Gamora are occupied) in the form of home runs, exciting plays, the 7th Inning Stretch (which draws more questions for Quill to deal with), and finally a win by the home team before everyone enjoys the fireworks show ("Pathetic. That was hardly anything," in Rocket's opinion).

Just when it's looking like Peter Quill might have done the unimaginable and turned a questionable idea into a night of successes after near certain disaster, they get back out to the parking lot. The big white van is nowhere to be seen. "Quill..." comes Rocket's voice, low and full of warning. "Tell me you forgot where you parked. Tell me you didn't leave that hunk of metal unlocked with the keys in it. TELL ME YOU AREN'T A FLARKING IDIOT!! And wipe that look off your dumbscut humie face!"

An alternate method of getting back to the Milano appears to be in order.