4273/Return of the Titans, with a Guardians assist

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Return of the Titans, with a Guardians assist
Date of Scene: 02 December 2020
Location: Common Area - Milano
Synopsis: Titans and Guardians work out how to get the former home. The Universal Church of Truth has other plans. All escape. All narrowly avert disaster. The Titans return, with visitors from outer space.
Cast of Characters: Rocket, Victor Stone, Caitlin Fairchild, Drax, Rachel Roth, Terry O'Neil, Donna Troy, Kian, Nadia Pym-van Dyne, Gar Logan

Rocket has posed:
Introductions have been made among those who have been able to be a part of them, save one. Rocket has left the cockpit on autopilot to maintain their position, leading the way into the Milano's common area. "So we got a few more losers on this crew, but they're busy doin' who knows what right now. This bird's bigger than you'd think. Maybe a few of them are off gettin' to know each other better. Now where's..oh, there you are."

Entering the same place, coming in from the cargo hold, is a very large, tall tree-like thing. Bark in place of skin, but a kindly enough face, and a very curious one all of a sudden. "I am Groot?" he asks, and Rocket shakes his head at the creature. "Nah, they're not joining us. They're just here until we can get them back home. We ain't got enough food for all of them." Seemingly satisfied with that, Groot raises a large hand to give the Titans a wave. "I am Groot." This leads to Rocket adding, "I'm sure they're happy to see you too, tree. If you guys didn't figure it out by now, that's Groot."

Rubbing his little hands together, he tells Groot, "Why don't you go grab that box we got earlier? We were gonna talk some trade. We still gotta get the navs fixed up, but after that it should be smooth sailing." Groot ambles off to the cargo hold, to retrieve what was asked for.

Victor Stone has posed:
With the assistance of a timely rabbit hole, Vic leaps aboard with more spring in his step than he has evidenced in a long time. He's not carrying very much -- at least, not given his personal lifting capacity -- but it's everything the group bothered to bring with them from the pocket dimension where they've been stranded. It all fits into three cases, along with a medical kit and a bag of tools that he has slung under each arm.

"Figured we wouldn't be bothering with the shuttle anymore, so I'd bring our stuff with me," he announces as his gaze zips around the common area for places to stow the gear. "We hitchhiking all the way home or should I be expecting a layover?"

His nose wrinkles slightly as he kicks what appears to be a used food carton out of his path, and he adds, "Not that I don't want to get home, but I won't be offended if it's the latter." The carton lands not far from Rocket, and Vic grimaces as he spots the little creature. "Ew. Is this ship some kind of space circus? That is definitely not an animal you should put in a costume. Instagram has a lot to answer for."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin's already looking over a technical schematic for the Milano. The construction is quite alien but at least there's some scattered notes in English, presumably from Quill. Most of them revolve around the mods and custom repairs he's done, which is a mixed bag. At least some of them are in English.

When Vic starts in on Rocket, Caitlin's eyes widen and she grimaces at him with teeth bared in distress. She starts making a 'cut it out' gesture near her throat with a pointed tilt of her head.

Drax has posed:
"Do not kick our garbage."  Drax isn't really sure where that carton came from, but it doesn't seem to matter much.  "We are hosting you as our guest.  Respect that," the imposing Kylosian says as he straightens up his posture, folding his arms at his chest.  Quite different from the congenial guy who just offered gusher things to everyone.

His look just says it all.  'You want to be quiet,' drilling in with an unblinking stare.

Rachel Roth has posed:
    Raven isn't wearing a mask necessarily, but she is channeling her inner horror movie villain. The others move off to the common area, and for a moment their backs are to Raven's floating form. Her feet, as yet, not having touched the ground. As Rocket enters that new room, as if she had always been there alongside Groot, floats Raven- near to the back wall. Her decidedly incorporeal form seems to have no trouble simply being wherever she chooses at the moment. More likely, it is wherever she needs to be.

    "Cyborg." she offers, eyes unblinking, and thankfully now the way her voice seems to penetrate and echo makes a little more physical sense thanks to the increased volume of the room. She holds no aggression, but she does seem to be chastising a little. "That 'creature' is sentient, sapient, and in control of this ship. He deserves that respect. We are their guests." It is the most, at the moment, that she is willing to offer, in aid to Caitlin's gesturing.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Ahahaha Vic, such a kidder. Let's not importune the very nice man-" who could snap our limbs like twigs "- they are being nice enough to give us a lift home. Once we help repair their , you know, craft." The Cheshire gives a wide grin, turning on the ingratiation to the max because he, really, really wants to get home. And he doesn't want an altercation where Rae swallows someone's soul because that would make writing 'thank you' notes very awkward, afterward.

"Hello, Groot!" he says in response. "Wow. Your crew is a veritable example of the variegated life-forms in the galaxy..."

Briefly, he gets wanderlust. He's always wanted to go into outer space... and, of course, he got his wish in the most Monkeypaw of ways- he went to space, into the most insane pocket universe. "You must have a lot of stories of your travels!" he says to Drax by way of icebreaker and tension-defuser.

Donna Troy has posed:
    A tree. A walking tree. A talking raccoon has just introduced the Titans to a walking tree. A few months ago this would have been more noteworthy, but the soujorn in the multi-species madhouse of the Seven Worlds makes it all seem like Tuesday.

    "Yeah I can't blame him," Donna says to Rocket after the introduction to Groot, watching the tree-man disappear off in search of cargo. "I mean looking like that I'd make really sure people knew my name in case they decided to start calling me 'Treebeard'. Because... yeah. Ent. Space Ent."

    "OH HEY VIC," Donna calls out, hoping to drown anything else he might be about to say to pour gas on the flames. "Let me introduce you to the crew. This is Captain Rocket. Spaceship captain called Rocket, irony huh? They probably have plasma thrusters rather than rockets, who knows. Captain Plasma doesn't sound as cool as Captain Rocket though. The guy with the ink is... uh hey, big man, I didn't catch your name. What was it again? And the tall wooden guy is Groot, but don't worry if you didn't catch that, I'm sure smeone will mention it again."

Rocket has posed:
"/What/ did you just say?" comes a menacing snarl from Rocket, turning toward Vic once he's heard. He'd just made his way over to the kitchen area of the room for a bite of whatever looked tempting when Vic showed up and noticed him first. Drax has already covered part of any response, but it seems Caitlin already has a good idea of what's coming.

"I am /not/ a fucking circus animal, and I don't even know what the hell Instagram is and I don't care, because you...are...oh, fuck me sideways, I don't even know where to begin..." Anger turns to awe, and Rocket literally scampers over to Vic and activates a small button on his jumpsuit that allows him to hover up at eye level thanks to a personal thruster system that seems to magically appear at his back. Oh, space tech. "So much chrome, and a glowing eye, and that arm..." He's staring, practically drooling. "You! I want to trade with you enough that I'll forgive you for what you just said."

A crate begins to appear from the ladder down into the cargo hold, courtesy of branches and vines wrapped around it. The crate slides to one side, followed by Groot's head popping back up to look around, staring at Cyborg as well.

"We have prosthetic eyes! Lots of 'em! Wanna swap?" He flashes his winningest Rocket smile possible, showing many sharp and pointy teeth, his ears perked, eyes wide with anticipation.

Meanwhile, Groot climbs the rest of the way back into the common area and opens the crate. Sure enough, countless replacement eyes for anyone who happens to have lost one. The sentient tree scoops up a handful, most of which fall to the floor to roll every which way. "I am Groot..." he laments, without Rocket to explain what he just said.

Victor Stone has posed:
"Just helping you clean up, big guy," Vic answers Drax without missing a beat, giving a friendly smile as he turns to see the alien behind him. 'Big guy' is sort of the pot calling the kettle swole, but it certainly applies. Unfortunately, Drax's look doesn't really say it all -- mainly 'roll for intimidation' -- but Caitlin's look says a lot, so he trails off his commentary while others speak up.

He's glad he did when an unmistakable voice cuts in. "Rachel! Holy shit, how did you get here?" He knows better than to rush over and sweep her up in a hug, but he does grin widely and throw his arms open in a sort of goalie stance, ready in case she's feeling a sudden rush of affection.

This does mean he mostly loses her reprimand in his own joy at seeing one of his long-lost teammates, but Vorpal and Donna's subsequent torrent of words is pretty hard to miss. Then the critter itself has pretty unmistakably joined in the conversation and jetted up to eye level, and he lowers his chin as he looks at it quizzically.

"Rocket," he says flatly, echoing Donna in her introduction. Then, with the sudden flash of a wry grin, he skips past all the obvious spaceman and jetpack jokes to say: "Like the /lettuce./"

He extends a big metal hand, which after a second he revises to a couple of fingers, and continues, "Nice to meet you. I'm Vic." He casts a glance at the few cases he brought aboard, wondering if they'll contain enough worth trading, then answers, "I think we're mainly trading for transport, but I'm sure the eyes are nice, too. Maybe I can look over them, see if they give me any ideas for improvements."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin gives the various cybernetics a look of mild revulsion. It's not the cyberware-- it's just the gesture of a large handful of eyes going in every direction that triggers something visceral.

"Uh... well, good news," she says, cutting in. "I'll need some help with some of the foreign systems, but I can get the nav system underway. Vic, can you help me out and run translation with the ship's interface? I don't speak the language and I don't think it likes me anyway."

She pauses, then turns to Rocket. "Er, with the Captain's permission, of course," she adds a beat later.

Because manners matter, kids.

Drax has posed:
"I have many tales of enemies slain."  Drax considers Cheshire Cat before looking over to Donna, his expression lightning a touch more.  "It is his language, I am told."  He just looks back to Vic, with that impenetrable stare.

"Some call me Drax the Destroyer."  Drax.  You broke out of a NovaCorps prison not that long ago after being thrown in for a cross-world rampage for months upon months.  There is no self preservation.

At the crate appearing, Drax finally offers Groot a greeting, a measured dip of his head.  "Quill will not be happy about these eyes.  They have tiny stickers with the numbers on them yes?"  He does not know the term serial numbers.  He reaches in to try and pull one out to inspect between his forefinger and thumb, turning it around to see if...he can see the sticker?

"He is not like lettuce.  Lettuces are gross.  The ones that are on my planet; they do not speak, but they are delicious."  Drax looks over to Rocket.  "But you would not taste good because you can speak."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Vorpal stares at the cascading ocular prosthetics, and blinks. "Wow. That is the second largest pile of eyes I've seen in my life."

He turns his attention back to the crew. He follows Drax, fascinated by his way of speaking. "Actually, there are birds back in my planet that can speak, and some people say that they are quite tasty..." he pauses and glances at his friends with a clear 'Do NOT tell Kian I said that', before continuing, "But yes, Rocket is not likely to taste very good to humanoids. Slavering monsters, creatures from beyond the veil, and monstrosities beyond the ken of reason, on the other hand? They tend not to be very picky about what they eat. Nice to meet you, Drax the Destroyer..."

He leans in, conspiratorily, "So what exactly /did/ you destroy to earn that title?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Vorpal, you are incorrigible," Donna says, while punching him. Not hard though. "Second largest indeed. Nobody ask him about the first largest, you'll only be encouraging him. My bet is snacks. Drax, the Destroyer of Snacks. No snack is safe. Hi Drax."

    Donna retrieves one of the eyes from the floor and studies it, perhaps looking for those serial numbers that Drax had mentioned. "Are these stolen, then?" she asks - her expression light and curious rather than accusatory. This might possibly make the Titans who know her well slightly nervous. Regardless she tosses the eye back into the box, where it lands with a *chink*, and wanders back over to stand next to Raven, who she is watching for signs of either increased corporeality or further violence.

Rocket has posed:
There is a lot going on in the common area of the Milano, a lot for Rocket to keep up with after being so caught up in everything about Cyborg. "Yeah, that's me. Captain Rocket," he declares. "Just don't tell Quill when you see him," he says as an aside, glancing over a shoulder to make sure Star-Lord isn't coming in to ruin everything. He, however, looks completely confused at the comparison to lettuce, then he shoots Drax a look of what can only pass as betrayal for talking about delicious anything right now.

"Tell ya what. Cyborg, was it? These are the best eyes you'll ever lay eyes on in the whole galaxy, see? Groot, you're...getting them everywhere." He's deflated for a moment, and the tree offers an apologetic, "I am Groot." Rocket waves it off, giving Caitlin a glance as she starts trying to figure out the nav repairs. "I could do it myself, but since you crazy kids were in our way it's only right of you to help in exchange for us taking you back home."

He passes over Raven with a quick look her way, a brief shiver of some kind running down his spine before he scoffs at Vorpal. "I doubt it. That's more eyes right there than you've ever laid eyes on in the whole galaxy, see?" Didn't he just say almost exactly that a moment ago? Yes. Yes, he did.

Vic's offered hand is passed up in favor of him zipping over to perch on one of Cyborg's shoulders, literally starting to /pet/ the side of his head that's not fleshy. "Don't worry your pretty little head about nothin'. You and me, we can make a deal and--"

A klaxon horn sounds all of a sudden, red lights flashing as a digitized voice interrupts. "Alert. Danger. Templeship entering local quadrant. Repeat. Alert. Danger. Templeship entering local quadrant."

"Oh, fuuuuuccck. Don't tell me it's the Church," Rocket grimaces, his tail suddenly puffing out regardless of Vic's reaction.

Over the speakers comes a distinct, authoritative voice: "Guardians of the Galaxy. You will return what belongs to the Universal Church of Truth or you will be vaporized. We believe."

Rocket: "I /said/ don't tell me it's the Church! We gotta get outta here, now!" But what could they be after?

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Vorpal shoots Donna a mock hurt look, "I am not incorrigible, I'm encourageable and adorable, thank you very much." He is about to turn to Raven and ask her to back him up, in the hopes of one of her dry-as-ice remarks, but he thinks better of it under current Trigonic circumstances. He is about to say more, when suddenly there are claxons everywhere and the alert is sounded.

"The church?" he says, raising an eyebrow at the ominous announcement, and then he glances over at Vic. "... Huh. I guess nobody was expecting the inquisition."

Victor Stone has posed:
"Sure thing, Cait," Vic answers his teammate, striding over to the console next to her and looking for some kind of port he might be able to plug into. Not that he's expecting a USB-C or anything, but he's experienced with hotwiring --

"Wait, is that a Zune?" he blurts out, stunned. The outdated and unpopular mp3 player sits on the console, and is in fact plugged in via a USB cable to a socket jury-rigged from extraterrestrial tech. Vic unplugs the device reverently, staring at it like the relic of a forgotten past that it is, and then extends a cable of his own from the gauntlet-like computer built into his left forearm. "Let's hear it for the powers of plot convenience," he says as he plugs in and starts a direct data interface with the system.

As he does, he chimes in to the conversation across the way: "You guys are way off. Obviously he got the name by destroying the squat rack." He's about to offer more quips when Rocket lands on him and starts stroking the metallic side of his head. "Whoa, whoa, personal space!" he grunts, leaning sharply away from the tiny little hands and reaching up with his unplugged arm to reflexively swat at the furry scavenger.

The alarms are even more effective at getting rid of him, but at that point Vic is dealing with his own problems. "Ow, ow, Jesus! Is anyone else getting...?" He stares around the common area, to blank looks, and then blinks rapidly, processing both the input from the Milano's damaged systems and whatever new stimulus is distracting him. "Oh, weird. That gizmo I stole on Alfort just /lit up/," he announces, puzzled. He stares at Rocket, half suspicious of another unsettling approach, half curious as he asks with a growing sense of dread, "This Church of the Space Whatever. Why would them showing up make a piece of a psychic pain generator go nuts?"

Rachel Roth has posed:
    Thankfully, for Donna, Raven is showing no signs of further violence. Sadly, she is also not any more physically existent than she was a short while ago, despite that she is now more at rest. She offers no warmth, either, which is a little depressing- Raven is usually always warm.

    Looking at her also isn't pleasant if you're not used to it. Even more now than ever, she seems almost edited in, as if there is something about her that doesn't allow her to be fuly placed within reality. Akin to the uncanny valley, but without being able to single out the face as the part that doesn't fit. In fact, the fact that she seems unnatural but that there is no specificity in it is likely why it's all the more unsettling.

    "Ah. They have arrived." Raven notes, as if she was aware that the church was coming from the beginning, which frankly would have been nice to know beforehand. "They are also very dangerous, and in as much of a sense as they can be, very angry."

    here is only a short pause. "I don't think I have enough left to eliminate this ship, Donna. Rocket is right, we should leave immediately." She's so utterly calm, in saying that. Which is very easy to be when you are not really here to begin with... For now.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"/Language/, guys, c'mon," Caitlin objects. Rocket gets a side-eye, but Victor gets a 'you-ought-to-know-better' look.

She's up the bridge's access ladder in a flash and moves to what looks like a navigator's station. Close enough, anyway. "Uh, if I'm reading this right, there's a ship about twelve thousand kilometers from us and on an approach path. I'm getting really weird readings though, maybe the sensors are broken. No generator or engine signatures but it's making good speed towards us."

"Vic," she calls down. "No time for making friends with the ship! Send over the coordinates, I'll try and ..." She stares at the foreign equipment.

"Try and jump us into hpyerspace-- what even /is/ this setup?" she says, a little bewildered by the foreign navigational system. The plucky engineer starts hitting buttons and making adjustments, hoping Vic's 'conversation' with the ship's VI starts to translate to her station also.

"No one try to leave the ship, we might need to bail in a hurry. Does this ship have a gunnery station?" she inquires of Rocket.

Drax has posed:
Red-rimmed blue irises fall upon Vorpal with awe, disgust, and perhaps even curiosity.  He squints.  "Your planet is horrifying. Talking birds."  He mumbles the last bit as he shakes his head in disbelief.

Drax's dips, following Vorpal as he leans in.  For his part, Drax does not move a muscle.  "I destroyed many servants and allies of Ronan, servant to Thanos."  He doesn't bother lowering his volume.  In fact, he grits his teeth and looks like a berserker on the precipice of an episode.  The slow burning rage infects even this, "My stomach did destroy many of Rocket's strange jelly fruit."

Right on queue, Rocket's eyes find his.  "Hahahaha, you are upset because you are hungry, but they are very delicious."  He falls into a fit of laughter, something sorely needed.  Then he grins to Donna.  "Hello."

But then Rocket is petting the robot man's head, and Drax already has the tickles.  "He is petting you like a robot dog."  Not even the alert stops the roaring laughter, but Rocket does.  "What is this Church?  I will smash it to smithereens," he says with so much conviction, his fist banging into his hand.

By the way, there /is/ what looks like a professional rotisserie machine jammed into a small gap between cabinets, deforming each of them in the process.  It is unplugged and has a note on it that says, 'Rocket.  Me meat.  You power.'

Drax seems to ignore Raven.  It's easier to accept a reality where people are flesh and bone.  His eyes glaze right past her as he swings his gaze around to Caitlin.  "Do not just mash the buttons.  I will not die before my family is avenged.  Rocket.  She is touching the ship like a toddler."

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic's USB conversation must be having some effect: as Caitlin starts button-mashing, a bug-eyed paperclip hops into view in a corner of her screen, somehow managing to look lazily snide, alongside a word bubble that proclaims, "It looks like you're trying to plot a hyperspace jump! Would you like some help with that, meatbag?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna steps into the cockpit to look for the Templeship, but it's not yet visible except on scanners, and it takes her a while to interpret what's on the scanners. She returns looking thoughtful. "Church of what?" She asks. "Who are these clowns and why are they threatening to vaporize people? I don't know about you Guardians of the Galaxy, but the Titans don't take well to be threatened like that and I'm kind of inclined to sugges we trash their ship for them. I have questions though."

    Donna counts out the questions on her fingers. "One, what in Hades is the Unversal Church of Truth? Two, what do they believe? And three..." her eyes go to Rocket. "Did you guys steal a box of artifical eyes from religious zealots? Because... no." She stops herself, shaking her head. "No, I don't want to know. Forget it. Is there a reason why you don't just send them back the eyes?"

    She puffs out her cheeks and looks over at cold, intangible Raven, looking slightly depressed. "I'm kind of in favor of not eliminating ships full of people if it can be avoided, Rae. But we dealt with Warw... Hey Vic, are you okay?" Donna interrupts herself again to look over to her cybernetic team-mate with concern. "Vic, I sometimes wonder if you should take your time before integrating random alien hardware into your systems, because..."

    At which point Donna loses yet another line of monologue to the shifting tides of history as Caitlin declares leaving the ship to be off the menu and starts talking about emergency hyperspace jumps. She puffs her cheeks out and folds her arms. "What? What? Why is everyone making such a big deal out of this? Vorp can whip us up a rabbit hole, Supergirl and I will go trash the thing. Drax too! Look, he's eager. What do you say, big man? Wouldn't you rather be Drax the Destroyer of Irritating Space Ships, than Drax the Destroyer of Strange Jelly Fruit? C'mon!"

Rocket has posed:
Rocket is all action, now. He's also on his way back to the cockpit, courtesy of his personal thruster system, utilizing the speakers so he can relay what he knows to the others, leaving open the ability to communicate back and forth.

"Okay, quick rundown. Universal Church of Truth: BAD FUCKING DUDES." Sorry, not sorry, Cait.

"They're from a place called Homeworld, which is not very original to call a place at all, but whatever. They go around offering peace through faith to different planets, but here's the catch. If you tell them 'thanks but no thanks,' they wipe out whoever doesn't convert. I'm talking literal fire, brimstone, flaming swords, Flaming Moes - I think that's what Quill called them - you name it. So much as I'd like to send them packing with a nice ass-kicking, if they followed us back to your earth planet that wouldn't be a good thing. I ain't a big fan of Quill here, but as much as I like seeing him cry I don't think he'd handle it well if the Church did that."

His explanations are interrupted by the same voice of authority: "Guardians of the Galaxy. Return the statue you stole from the pirates who stole it from us. You have one cycle to respond. We are not offering to accept your faithful devotion this time."

Rocket answers, this time as a broadcast back to them, "What statue? I don't know about any statue!"

Groot, at that moment, shakes the crate as if hearing something unexpected within. A few tendrils of vines snake around the large pile of eyeballs and comes up with something that is definitely a statue. It's golden, quite shiny, and looks like the sort of thing one would find in a temple. "I am Groot!" he exclaims proudly, holding said statue up.

Rocket, again for the benefit of the rest of the crew and visitors: "Look, I ain't seein' a way outta this unless we can scram real soon here. Those guys have these things called faith generators, and they're powered by the belief of their followers. No joke. They got cardinals who are like these big golden knights and whatever they say they believe, like 'I believe you can't hurt me,' that's the way it is. We got guns, oh do we got guns, and lasers too, but that ain't gonna do a whole lot right now. If we can jump outta here, I think I can pilot us to your planet and leave them behind without them following us."

This might be enough for someone back in the common area to formulate an immediate plan, while Groot examines the statue very curiously.

With Donna having joined him in the cockpit by now, Rocket levels a look at her as he straps himself into his seat. "Lady, you don't just /give/ something back to someone after you've stolen it fair and square. There are times to fight and there are times to run, and most of the time the time to run is the right choice."

At precisely that moment, the Milano is cast into so much shadow by what can only be the Templeship itself. It is massive compared to their vessel.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Reminder, Donna: I can only Rabbit Hole us there if I have seen the place. The only reason we managed to get on board here was because we got a good look at the cockpit right before... y'know, we slammed ourselves against them."

The Cheshire cat shrugs and slides his hands into his jacket pockets, "I d'no, you know I'll be the first one to inch for a fight, but if /Rae/ calls them dangerous, I'd say we should listen to our resident Mistress of Magic and--"

He blinks a couple of times. Being cast into shadow while already floating in an inky blacknes surrounded by stars is definitely unnerving.

The Cheshire cat runs over to Groot and holds out his hand, "Mister Groot, we should get rid of that thing, /stat/! Can you throw it here?"

And in that instant, a Rabbit Hole opens up. Destination? Space. The final frontier. Mostly outside the Milano.

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic gives Drax a flat, annoyed look in response to his booming guffaws, then glares at Rocket. "Don't you have an apple to wash in a stream or something?" As the raccoon darts away, his hackles lower a little. Maybe he did? Odd time for a snack, though.

That doesn't mean Cyborg is entirely happy. He grits his teeth and keeps running repairs on the ship's damaged systems, but is obviously distracted. "You might be right, Donna -- whatever those guys are putting out, it is hitting this thing like a DDoS attack."

Then, as Rocket runs down the Church of the Almighty Space whoever's capabilities over the intercom, Vic's brows furrow. Suddenly, he stands, yanks himself free of the Milano's computer, and yells, "Hey! Gar's psychic beacon thing! Do we still have that? Where is it?! I need it RIGHT NOW."

On Caitlin's monitor, Clippy's image flickers and corrupts with a few scanlines of static when Cyborg disconnects. Its word bubble phases through some unfamiliar, tendril-like scripts before settling back into the familiar alphabet. "Meatbag. MeeeeeeaT-T-b4g.!!!1 The jUmp is ComputinKgggg. what wIll1l you give me Nnnowwww??//? f a i r i s f a i i ii IIIr"

Looks like somebody didn't right click the taskbar icon before disconnecting the USB.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"I'm not mashing buttons!" Caitlin objects at Drax's chastisement. She stops mashing buttons and starts making more deliberate choices, though the Clippy aide gets a flat and unamused stare.

"Okay plotting... course coordinates..."

"It's not a GOOD TIME FOR ADDING MORE THINGS TO DO, VICTOR!" Caitlin shouts back at Cyborg. "I'm already four layers deep in trying to use this stupid computer interface!" Her voice is high and tight with tension and she's frantically trying to work through several layers of unfamiliar tech and engineering all at once, also while under the duress of an alien ship attacking them.

"Rocket, I've got nav coordinates plotted!" she shouts over at the pilot. "Someone space the doggone statue and let's jump before we get en flambed, okay? I get a feeling we're not exactly going to be able to run from them!"

Drax has posed:
"I never back down from a fight!"  Drax puffs up and then crouches as if the call to battle supersedes all plans in any context.  Like a wolf howling in response.

"I will not bow to their puny gods!"  Donna might have pressed the wrong Drax button...or the right one.  He charges to the back of the ship.  "Give me that trinket.  I will shove it up their ship's pipes!"  He probably means thrusters.

He snatches it up from Groot and simply pops out of the ship without any kind of protection, thankfully not spacing anyone else.  His eyes are open!  His eyes are open!  It's like someone staring underwater.  He flings the statue and uses the momentum to gracefully re-enter, until one of his boots clomps down unceremoniously onto the deck after it's safe.

Rachel Roth has posed:
    Floating impassionately, Raven remains momentarily in the more open room, as the others insensitively leave the noncorporeal soul-existence of Raven behind.

    Sadly, of course, that's not how you get rid of Raven, necessarily. It's another moment where, serendipitously, everyone is paying attention to something else, as Raven appears within the cockpit. Her hands have yet to leave her pockets, and she lingers for a moment before speaking, at all.

    "We could strap him to the front of the ship, and whichever direction he seems to be pulling in the most would guide us towards Earth, for a short while."

    Raven's attention then turns directly towards Rocket. "Now that they are here, even if we were to eject the statue, if we make the jump, do you believe that they could follow us?"

    An ominous thought, frankly, but one that may deserve mention.

Donna Troy has posed:
    "SPACE, Vorp. You've seen space. Rabbit hole near their ship, we'll go tear open an airlock if we want in. It'll be /fine/. " As she speaks, Donna peers upwards through the cockpit window at the Templeship. "Hmm. Big, but we've taken on bigger. I mean like three times so far this year. Hades, if we still had the dreadnought..."

    She tilts her head to look across to Rocket. "Faith generators, huh? What, some kind of psychic energy powered reality distortion field? Okay. So the trick is that we have to hit them before they are aware of it, so they don't get time to start believing in it. Hmm." She peers back up at the Templeship. "Stealth mission then. Not a problem. You wouldn't happen to know where on the ship they keep this faith generator would you Rocket? Sounds like eliminating that would take the wind from their sails. SG, change of plan, we're..." She looks around again, but nobody seems to be paying much attention to her planning. Apparently nobody else is keen on a fight, which is very disappointing. Just one little fight on Alfort in /weeks/.

    But wait! Vic's not talking about running, he's talking about psychic beacons. And there's some kind of psychic faith generator thing. This sounds like a plan that may give her the excuse to fight things. "The beacon! Good idea. It's still on the shuttle. We should fetch it. Vorp, open a rabbit hole to the shuttle, quick!"

    Donna turns to Vorpal, who is busy making a rabbit hole for Groot to throw things through instead, though his scheme is laid waste by Drax's impetuous space walk.

    A muscle in Donna's left eyelid twitches slightly. "Vorpal," she says slowly. "Could you quickly open a rabbit hole to the shuttle's cargo hold so that Vic can fetch the T-Jet missile with that psychic probe on it which our friends kindly sent to us? That would be useful right now, I think. Oh Caitlin? Rae has a point. Let's disable their ability to come after us before we start trying to outrun them. Thank you."

Rocket has posed:
Groot considers Vorpal with the level of curiosity one might expect from sentient flora seeing humanoid feline. There's Mantis, there's a lot of other strange-looking aliens the Guardians have crossed paths with, but Vorpal is right up there. "I am Groot," he smiles, gingerly beginning to hand the statue over to Vorpal while spilling a few more eyeballs on the floor of the common area. They'll be finding those in so many nooks and crannies if they get out of this in one piece.

That is, until Drax intercepts the handoff like a defensive lineman who just made mincemeat of the guy trying to block him. We're talking /blown the fuck up/ here.

Rocket's voice: "Did someone say statue? There /is/ a statue?" He sends Donna a quick look, ignoring what he just said before. "Yeah, whatever. Chuck that thing outside and let's goooo!" He swings a panel in front of him and his hands fly over the screen, beginning to power the thruster engines back up and lock in on the coordinates given, planning a jump. "Is someone outside? Who's outside? One of the hatches just opened. Drax! Get back in here!"

He jumps in place at Raven's appearance. "Don't /do/ that!" Once he's caught his breath again, he gives her a confused expression. "Strap who to the front of the ship? They could probably follow if they really wanted to. Let's try to avoid that, yeah?"

There is now a statue belonging to the Church floating in orbit, and a tractor beam immediately locks onto it, drawing it back into the Templeship.

The Church responds: "Wise choice, rodent. But we said one cycle and you did not obey quickly enough. Prepare yourselves for vaporization, Guardians of the Galaxy no more." There is a significant level of energy building in a few ports on the side of the Templeship they face.

"Fuck me sideways," Rocket blurts. He doesn't even have a response to being called a rodent, this time. "No, I've never been on a Templeship, and I'd really rather not. If you got a plan, just..try it. Otherwise, I'm getting us outta here before they fire."

The others in the common area would hear his voice again: "Hold on to your butts, or someone else's. We only got a few moments before that thing tears through us!"

And, to make their plight more problematic, the same tractor beam that drew the statue back to the Templeship locks onto the Milano, freezing it in place for the coup de grace about to come. "Well, that's just great."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Alright alright, geez, I didn't expect the hole to be this much in demand!" Vorpal says, closing out the portal once Drax has had his moment. "Awesome throwing arm, Drax. If you ever decide to stop a while on Earth, you could play professionally in the big leagues in baseball..."

He turns around and waves his hands in the air. The Rabbit Hole to the shuttle opens.

"First floor, probes and beacons, ladies' lingerie and things to read in the middle of an alien abduction- hop in, Vic!"

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic runs down a gangway, his metal feet clanging against the grate beneath him as he yells into his built-in T-Com. "Trust me, Cait, this'll be good. And thanks, Donna. Vorpal, I need a port to the shuttle, stat! That's what they say in doctor shows when they mean nnnaaaaooooo--"

Mid-syllable, the cybernetic Titan runs headlong through a tear in space and arrives on the disregarded shuttle. "--ooooooowwwww!" he yells, the shout turning into a yelp of pain as he bangs his head on the cockpit's low ceiling at a full run. He reels back, clutching at his forehead and staggering around the confined space. He barks his metal shin on the the modified missile, nearly tripping in the process. He hops back again, about to clutch at his shin when he remembers that his legs are metal and feel no pain.

Sending a mental thanks to Space God -- or possibly Cthullippy -- that no one saw any of that, Vic dips down to a crouch next to the missile. He works fast -- he designed these missiles, after all -- hotwiring the Alfortian component to the unfamiliar psi-beacon payload and all of that to his internal power core.

He can sort of hear the booming voice of the Church secondhand over his T-Com, laying on the pressure as the tools built into his fingers cut, connect, solder, and twist at dizzying speed. Finally, indicator lights on the devices flicker to life, brighten, rise with a cutting hum to a harsh, blinding brightness, and then release a pent-up wave of psychic energy with a sizzling contrabass whumpf. Vic, sitting at ground zero, completely forgets where he is and what he's doing, as if his brain has just been soft-rebooted, but as the wave broadens through space it should have a much more powerful effect on the faith-powered Church ship's systems.

Drax has posed:
"What is Baseball?  Is it a great ocean?  With depths like chasms so deep that you lose yourself?"  Literally.  Drax passes by to get to the cockpit, leaning his hand down on the top of one of the seats.  He makes his way into it and grumbles to himself under the noise as he buckles himself in.

This guy has seen weirder than portals and doesn't seem to be a stranger to impulses that become plans.  "Why are people leaving the ship?!  Are we fighting?"  AND NO ONE TOLD HIM?!  Course, he was outside.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Ten...Nine...Eight.... Threetwoonetime'sup!" Vorpal counts, all too aware of the gravity of the situation. Whether Vic is fully ready or not, he will find a Rabbit Hole there ready to catch him and dump him back onto the Heart of Go--- the Milano.

"I'm sorry, Ol' pal, but time is of the essential oils right now- basically, it stinks."

Rocket has posed:
Sensors keep Rocket in the loop as to what's going on with anyone off-ship, and he swears under his breath before muttering, "I can't believe it. Our end is gonna come all because we got tangled up with more of Quill's people. I knew it was a bad idea to join up with him."

He pushes the thrusters to max power, and the Milano shudders but goes nowhere. The tractor beam keeps it in place, like a trapped animal waiting for the killing blow. From the cockpit, from the common area, they can all see the energy signatures from the Templeship growing more intense, as if signaling them to come to the light. "I'd say it was nice knowin' ya, lady," he comments to Donna, "but it..whoa!"

The Milano suddenly lurches as whatever Cyborg rigged up does the trick. The faith generators are disrupted enough that the beams never coalesce, never tear apart the ship and everyone in it.

"We're loose! Buckle up, because we're getting outta here now!" They can feel the force of Rocket veering the Milano around in the direction the coordinates point him toward, and his little fingers waggle over that part of the display. "Time to jump!" His hand flattens against the touchscreen, and all aboard the ship can feel the force of flying well beyond the speed of light, crossing space and time immeasurable for the moment, but most definitely set to deposit them within Earth orbit in mere seconds.

Victor Stone has posed:
"Oh, hey, Terry," Vic says woozily as the portal drops him back in the Milano. "What's the rush? Am I late for something?" He frowns and shakes his head. "Wait, this ship..." Recent history starts to slowly flood through his synapses. "Where are Pecs McBuffsmash and the Disney Woodland Creatures Brigade?"

He reaches out and instinctively grabs a support strut as the lurch of FTL travel makes space buckle around them. "Whoa!" He blinks quickly, the shift in space jangling a few more pieces back into their mental places. "Did we get away from those space Scientologists?"

Drax has posed:
"I knew it would happen," Drax speaks calmly about their fate at the hands of humans...and obviously other things.  "His people are everywhere.  Like beetles."  He puts his hands on his harness and looks back to see if everyone is strapped in.  But then, there just isn't enough to go around, so Drax unbuckles and goes back to hold onto something...very sturdy.

That's when Rocket punches it and Drax just deals with it.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Vic, ya gotta buckle up because-"

The Cheshire is a little late to the party, it woudl seem. He turns around just in time to witness the jump. This isn't quite like their recent jaunt through Endovar's white hole. After everything that he's been through, this is clearly something the Cheshire was not prepared for. All it really takes is one bad step- and on the ankle that still hasn't quite healed from the sprain, at that- while he reels in reaction to the strangeness of the leap. Down goes Vorpal.

"Ah, fu-"

Before Caitlin can say 'language!', though, he ends up banging his head against one of the consoles on his way down. The hit causes him to reflexively grab at the closest thing (being: the console) with one hand.

A hand that, through sheer reflex, is glowing purple with chaos magic.

The result is that Vorpal still ends up conking himself out. And now, there is chaotic magic surging through the ship...

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna leans back to check that Vic has been safely returned to the ship and gives a nod to Rocket, a resigned acceptance that it's time to leave and everyone's ready for him to do so. She takes his advice and buckles up, which means occupying the nearest seat, which just happens to be the gunnery controls. The realization of this fact occurs to her at some point a few seconds before the ship enters jump. The controls don't look all /that/ different from the point defense station on the Dreadnought, and she flicks on the controls and takes a bead on the Templeship. The targeting systems pick out a thermal exhaust port that's about the size of a womp-rat, and she nudges the guns towards it. Her finger squeezes on the trigger, and...


    "OH COME ON!" Donna thumps the arm of the chair with frustration and flicks the gunnery station controls to off again. "It's a conspiracy," she mutters to herself. "All I ask for is the opportunity to punch, stab or blast things. Is it so much to ask?"

    Donna finds herself pushed back into her seat harder and harder as Milano accelerates under warp. This is a rougher ride than you get drifting through giant wormholes. She cranes her neck back to make sure everyone else is actually secured. "Everyone? Rae? You guys okay back there? SG, can you grab anyone who isn't braced and brace them?"

Rocket has posed:
Rocket remains laser-focused on the journey, one that is second-nature for him but probably not normal for most of the people tagging along. He absolutely notices the guns activated and nearly fired. Maybe he kicked things into gear a step faster because of it?

"That wasn't real bright, lady. You blow a Templeship up and that's a guarantee they'd find a way to see you again," he scolds Donna.

Time passes quickly through the jump, but something strange happens along the way. A number of those fake eyes rattle around and cause some yet to be determined damage to a few sensor arrays. More problematic is the chaos magic. The readout in front of Rocket turns garbled for a few seconds, like a mixture of static and a feed resetting. "The hell?"

Coming out of the jump, they are much closer to Earth's surface than planned or expected. As in, OMG EIFFEL TOWER ALMOST RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM close!

"Shiiiit!" Rocket exclaims, hammering on the display with a fist before taking manual controls to pull hard to the right, but it might not be enough!

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic would have caught Terry before he fell, but the gravitic forces of the jump made lunging forward not the best of ideas. Still, as soon as the jump is complete, he lets go of the support strut, steps forward into a crouch, and starts to help his teammate to his feet, with a friendly little jolt of electricity to wake him up first, if necessary.

"Still feeling kind of groggy, but I'm guessing the warp drive means we're on our way home," he says in a tentative tone. The drama taking place in the cockpit, he is blissfully unaware of, down in the common area.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin just grips the console in sheer terror. A few of the Titans might possibly walk away from a supersonic crash-- or limp, or crawl. But there's a deep primal fear to such a wildly uncontrolled descent and her face has gone pale.

"PULLUPPULLUPPULLUP!" she screeches at Rocket, her voice loud enough to make ears ring.

Rachel Roth has posed:
    Raven does not seem perturbed as timespace warps around them due to the relativistic nature of their travel. While she'd like to be giving her attention to Donna, or using any one of a number of little tricks to make Terry highly nauseous, she is instead focusing on Chaos magic and, indeed, the myriad ways that a day that had already been somewhat ruined despite its current state of being a very good day.

    Her gaze moves languidly from Vorpal, who Raven momentarily contemplates sending over to the river Thames- they're not exactly -close- to London, but they don't need to be, and her lingering gaze belies said intent- to the glass of the cockpit.

    "Not Paris." she remarks, before opening her mouth wide and letting loose an incessant, audible /tone./ It seems to resonate somehow with the ship before its incredible momentum seems to propel it into a rapidly opening singularity, which is the best way to describe what those on the bridge see, whereas people on the ground are treated to the image of the maw of a bird coming into being in the sky and swallowing what definitely isn't swamp gas reflecting off of a weather balloon.

    This pocket of nightmare flows over and simultaneously through the ship, plucking it out of existence in Paris and depositing it in the sky above Metropolis and, indeed, Titans tower.

    It isn't pleasant. It isn't fun. It feels like for a moment, the insides rearranged themselves into funny shapes such as exotic animals before disappointingly rearranging themselves back into the proper order.

    When it's all said and done, Raven's feet touch the ground, and her eyes are finally visible, having shed the explosive un-light. Remaining calm- the perhaps only one among the 'crew' of the Milano- Raven's voice is probably going to be tough to hear now, as it lacks that otherworldly booming carry, and echoing quality.

    "We may still need to slow down."

Rocket has posed:
Rocket's eyes widen as he sees the Eiffel Tower getting way, way too close.

"Who makes a thing like that?" is the only thing he can think to ask. The Milano would probably survive going through it, but the greater issue would be the tower itself being destroyed.

Then, the Raven Effect takes place.

He doesn't understand it, he doesn't know exactly what's happening, but he /does/ know some of the things he's suddenly feeling are way too reminiscent of /other/ times he'd really rather not think about. Let's just say that sense of being rearranged inside, being taken apart and reconstructed...it's not foreign to him.

And then, night around them, a short, strained gasp escaping his triangular muzzle, and /another/ tower looming ahead of them and getting rapidly closer. T-shaped, in fact.

"Who makes a thing like that?" is the only thing he can think to ask (again). The Milano would probably survive going through it (again), but the greater issue would be the tower itself being destroyed (again).

This time, there is no Raven Effect, just Rocket's piloting skills kicking in. Caitlin's call to pull up is the way to go, as the little beast quickly cuts the thrusters and reverses them while drawing the nose up. "Come /on/ you metal piece of..nnnnghh!"

It skips off the top of Titans Tower, almost like a pond stone across the water, and while there is some damage done to both the rooftop and the underside of the Milano, he manages to bring it down through some trees into an open field on the island Titans Tower branches off from.

The Milano...has landed.

Donna Troy has posed:
    Meanwhile, in Titans Tower...

    *ALERT! AIRSPACE VIOLATION - TOWER UNDER ATTACK* - Barely seconds after the alarm goes off, the tower reverberates with a mighty >CRUNCH<. Shaking is felt on every floor of the tower. Small objects fall of shelves. The window in Kian's room cracks. Caitlin's favorite knife falls down the back off a kitchen unit and is never found again. Fortunately damage is minimal - it is a glancing blow, but the top of tower has been struck by an alien spaceship which then crash-lands, plowing a furrow through the trees and undergrowth of Titan's island and coming to a halt at the edge of Delaware Bay.

    "HEY! That's the Eiff..."

    "HEY! THAT'S OUR TOWER! HERA'S TI..." Donna stops herself, and looks guiltily back at Caitlin, then back at Rocket. "You hit our tower. That's our tower! We live there. You hit it!" She sounds slightly dazed, but in this case it's not the effects of the riotous journey so much as the sheer enormity of our events. "OUR TOWER!"

    She blinks at Rocket, and unbuckles herself from the seat, scrambling to her feet. "Oh well, never mind Rocket. " She flashes him an enormous grin and pats him on a fuzzy shoulder. "We crashed into your ship, you crashed into our tower. It's fair. Balances out. All good!" She rushes back into the common area, fizzing with excitement. "Everyone! Everyone! Are you all okay? No broken bones? We're home. We're HOME!"

    Donna rushes to the airlock that Drax had used earlier, fumbling to figure out the controls, and after a few moments figures it out. The door pops open, letting a cloud of steam spread out into the cool evening Metropolis winter air. The door is at a bit of an angle, pointing slightly up, and it takes Donna a little bit of scrambling to follow the cloud of steam out and leap from the Milano to the tortured dirt of the island. Laughter bubbles up from her lips and she cups her hands to her mouth and yells "HEY! TITANS! WE'RE HOME!"

Drax has posed:
Drax lets out an angry roar when he sees the Eiffel Tower pop into view and then...not?  The contemplation cuts him off abruptly, and so does the dour feelings Raven has stirred with those physical sensations.

"I need to-" Conk!  Drax starts to chuckle as he pushes himself up, only to fly forward and slam into the back of someone's seat when the Milano's velocity is cut down by the trees.  "Oops."  He gets up like he might just brush some dirt off of him, but he doesn't.  "I am not fragile and pathetic," Drax states as fact, clearly not offended that Donna doesn't know this.

The Kylosian hops out after Donna and looks around, twisting his head this way and that, looking at the sky.  Taking it all in.

Kian has posed:
    Unsurprisingly, a *>CRASH<* and a *>BOOM<* -- to say nothing of a cracked window -- get Kían's attention, especially since he was in his room at the time.  It's a moment or two before he comes bolting out, though, looking a little miffed, and then looking stunned, and then...
    ...and then he says something in his own language.  The tone is very nearly exactly that which someone would employ to say "What the f***?!" in English.
    A translation is not forthcoming.

Victor Stone has posed:
During the lurching crash landing, there's really nothing for Vic to do except try to keep the mostly still unconscious Vorpal from getting mashed against a bulkhead and holler upward, "Jesus Christ, LEARN TO FLY!" Then there's a jarring impact and he hears Donna yelling about 'our tower,' so he cups a hand around his mouth and adds, "LAND IN THE POOL!"

That was /probably/ a joke. Regardless, the instruction wasn't followed, which becomes obvious when, after several more seconds of weightless teetering, the ship crashes into what he can only assume is the ground and digs a massive groove in it.

God, he hopes it's just the ground -- focusing all his willpower on that hope for every bone-rattling second of the skid. If that's New Troy, Superman is going to kick their asses right back into that stupid pocket dimension.

Finally, the ship lurches to a halt. "I think Terry's dead," he calls out tentatively, propping the unconscious cat up with one superstrong metal hand, like he's My Cousin Vorpal.

Rocket has posed:
Rocket would have a white-knuckle grip on the manual controls, if only his skin was the right color. He wheezes a few breaths through his nose in the aftermath of the landing, too close a call, but you know what they say about landings you can walk away from.

Groot helpfully anchored himself to whatever he had to in the common area of the Milano, lending a few vines to keep people from pinballing around as needed..except for Drax. "I am Groot!" he tells them, encouraging them to be careful when getting up, with them having no hope of understanding without Rocket there to translate.

Rocket remains buckled in as he cuts the engines to the ship following their landing. It's not one he's especially proud of, but nobody died that he's aware of and he doesn't even snap at Donna for daring to touch him. He just..looks at her. "That's your home? Who designed that ugly thing? Anyway, you're welcome for not making you walk far."

He remains aboard the ship long enough to make sure it's not going to fall apart. There will be diagnostics to run, things to check before he can tell what sorts of repairs they're facing. With the hatch open, he pokes his head out of it and makes a face.

"Ugh. This place smells like Quill, way too much Quill. It's a nightmare come true," the creature in the jumpsuit declares.

Nadia Pym-van Dyne has posed:
Nadia is in the lab working on... something... when all the alarms go off at once. There's a lot of charts around about wormholes and folding space and calculations pointing to the potentially disastrous effects on space/time of whatever she has been working on, but the fabric of reality is a small price to pay perhaps when it comes to reclaiming ones friends.

All of this is forgotten though when the entire tower shakes from the glancing impact of a /spaceship/. "What the heck was that?!" Shouts a very surprised Waspette, her project forgotten as wings sprout from her and she takes off out a window to see what is going on outside.

"Aliens... why is it always Aliens?" She mutters to herself as she spies the crashed ship near the bay but then something or rather /someone/ emerges from the crashed vessel, someone she was definitely not expecting to see.

Nadia blinks once, blinks twice, eventually the moment of shock passes and suddenly there is a divebombing Waspette zooming down towards Donna, "Oh my god! You're back! You're safe! You're okay!" She likely has not taken the time to consider if Donna will be prepared for a swoop hug from above, but one is incoming anyway!

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Ow...Ooow.... stoppit!" the Cheshire cat bats at the metal hand poking him. "Nwanna school tod..."

He opens his eyes slowly, and then blinks. "...oh, hey. We're alive."

It takes a few moments for Vorpal to extricate himself from the floor. It was a good, comfortable floor, the kind you'd love to nap on after getting your melon conked.

"Oh man, did we crash /another/ ship?" he says, blinking into consciousness as he slowly stands up, holding onto the seat with which he had become very closely acquainted by virtue of getting slammed against it while unconscious, during the crash. He blinks a few times, looking around and being, frankly, amazed that nobody seems to be greatly injured. And then he notices the view outside of the cockpit.

"It's the-"

And then Donna begins Xena-screaming about it being the tower. Way to steal his thunder, Donna! But that is quickly forgotten as the impulse to run out takes hold of him. One, two, three steps and he winces "Ooooowww goddamnit, my ankle..." the ankle that hadn't quite fully healed because he rationed his time as Vorpal very carefully, so as not to go /too/ far to the chaos side. Still, not one to be deterred, the Cheshire Cat follows as bets he can, forgetting in his excitement that he could just Rabbit Hole outside since he /knows/ this area like the back of his hand. He follows Donna out, trips, flips, and falls flat on his face on the ground with an 'ooooof.' Then, he slowly pushes himself up onto his knees, joining Donna's laughter- it's contagious. The first members of the team he spots are Nadia and Kian, and the cat waves as Nadia divebomb hugs Donna, "We're really back! This isn't some stupid alternate dimension where everybody is chinchillas or something. We're really back."

They've seen things, okay?

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin emerges in Donna's wake, marvelling at the sight of familiar ground. "We're home," she whispers, and covers her mouth and nose with her steepeld hands. Water touches her eyes and she turns to squeeze Donna with a hug. "We're home! We're home!" she cheers-- and hops up and down to wave at the Titans pouring out of the Tower to greet them!

"WE'RE HOME!" she shouts, and starts laughing almost maniacally.

Gar Logan has posed:
Gar Logan is jolted upright by the alarms sounding, then the crack of a window, and the shaking of the building itself. "Whoa! What's that?" he gasps, moving into action immediately. Good thing he was awake.

Following behind Kian is another Akiar, of green coloring and plumage. He hovers over the scene, staring at the spaceship below, his eyes blinking rapidly in wonder and confusion.

{/Kian, what's this?/} he asks, and then an expression of hope forms in his face as Donna exits the Milano, followed by more. He sees Victor, then sees who Victor is carrying, and he turns a distinct shade of red before he is suddenly /not/ an Akiar any longer, landing in a run to approach one of his best buds and his closest friend, the one he declared his love for literal days before the four disappeared in space. "You're back! You're all back! Vorpal!"

With Vic holding him up so perfectly, Calvin? Meet Hobbes. TACKLE!

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic is only too willing to hand Terry off to Gar so that he can deal with his own feelings of shock while they enjoy their reunion. Unlike the others, he's not whooping and cheering at their homecoming: he just kind of totters around the park, dazed and staring up at the familiar Metropolis skyline -- not to mention the nearby Titans Tower -- with a slack expression.

After a few seconds, he crouches and then eases back to sit on the crest of the furrow of earth -- actual Earth -- that the Milano dug in the ground. His expression only slightly shifts as he sits, from stunned disbelief, slowly into comprehension.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Ooof! Suddenly, Vorpal is being tackled by something green. "Careful, ankle!" he protests, but very little. In a heartbeat he is throwing his arms around Gar, laughing and kissing him- forgetting for the moment that the green Titan tends to be somewhat shy about those things. "Gar! Gar! We're back! How long have we been gone? Are you all okay? I sensed you- I sensed that probe, it brought us home!"

He cathches his breath and he starts laughing and tearing up, hugging Gar tightly. "I thought I'd never- but I'm back. I'm back and now I am-"

He stops. His phone, which had for months been completely silent while being charged with the makeshift connectors aboard the Dreadnought, suddenly picks up signal again and fires a machinegun barrage of notifications. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. It becomes so incessant that he has to grab his phone out of his jacket and opens it.

And the most recent message is the one that shows up on his phone screen.

"...I am evicted?"