7479/Small Beginnings

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Small Beginnings
Date of Scene: 22 August 2021
Location: A New York warehouse
Synopsis: Rocket and the Punisher meet over a deal gone bad. Rocket gets some toys. Punisher gets supplies.
Cast of Characters: Frank Castle, Rocket




Frank Castle has posed:
The black market is everywhere, if you know where to look and have the right references. Or, if you know how to be sneaky, you can just tail the obvious black market contacts to their customers... then steal them.

However rocket finds the deal, it's in a warehouse along the waterfront peirs. Guns are being offloaded viqa crates from a freighter. Disguised as medical supplies, the authorities have been bribed to look the other way.

There are a half dozen thugs, the negotiator, and the dealer inside, talking business.

Rocket has posed:
Earth may not be Rocket's native land, though its inhabitants might not be so sure of this. The sight of an apparent raccoon walking around upright is something people have seen in meme videos, but that was just stealing food and running off.

This..is different. He'd cornered a seedy-looking individual who just looked the sort to have some information, and one way or another he got it. Tonight. The piers. A warehouse. All that was left was for him to dress the part.

Upon arriving, he approached with a casual stride, calling out in a very obvious way, "So I know this is a gun deal. I'm here to let you know I want some." Slung across his back is a gym bag, looking as if it holds something with a fair amount of weight to it. "You might look at me and think I ain't serious, but I assure you I am. I'm here for quality."

So says the 'raccoon,' clad in a classic mobster suit, pinstriped, complete with hat. Where he found something like that to fit him, that may be the biggest mystery of all.

Frank Castle has posed:
Every one of them stares at the raccoon. Not in that 'is that a talking raccoon?' sense. Well, not much of that. But more in the 'who is this and why are they interrupting our deal?' sense.

Then, one of the far guards to Rockets eyes suddenly drops to the ground like a puppet had it's strings cut... with no visible reason why.

Then another...

Rocket has posed:
"Oh, you're speechless? Yeah, I have that effect on people sometimes," Rocket boasts, carrying on as he walks within the group. "Now I ain't got all night. Gotta get back to my ship. Me and my crew got bigger things to deal with and I--"

One of the guards collapses toward the edge of the gathering, followed by another. His beady little eyes catch the falls a split second after they've begun, making the initial trajectory a bit harder to figure out right away. Ears flick as he turns his attention side to side, searching for the sound. Silencer?

Rather than present a convenient target, he ducks behind a vehicle to drop his bag on the ground and withdraw something of his own from it. "I flarking hate interruptions."

Frank Castle has posed:
Another... and another. Four down, and it's only at this point that the last two thugs realize what's going on and start firing MP5 rounds up into the rooftops blindly.

Somewhere outside the warehouse, Frank just silently watches through a window.... if he ever smiled anymore, the show would do it.

If he did.

Rocket, meanwhile, can figure out where the rounds are coming from, and can see the very tip of a rifle poking into the warehouse from a roof window.

Rocket has posed:
Rocket keeps a low profile, which is fairly easy for him. He's under four feet tall. The strange creature finishes setting up the contents of the bag, chucking it off to one side to see if it draws a shot from whoever's shooting. Maybe from another vehicle. Ah, no. A window. The rifle's muzzle can be made out.

"Okay, I see you up there!" he calls out. "I ain't with these guys. I was lookin' to pull one over on 'em. Maybe you and I can split the haul, or I'm good with a few things. I could make some fun stuff with your planet's guns. Maybe. They're pretty inferior, though."

He remains out of sight, however.

Frank Castle has posed:
Finally, the last two thugs get visibly headshotted... and the dealer and customer both run. The customer gets shot in the head... and the dealer gets both kneecaps shot, screaming in pain as he, tool drops to the ground, unable to run.

A couple seconds later, and a man in a trenchcoat and black bodysuit with a white skull vest walks in from a side entry, a Remington 870 shouldered in firing position as he walks in. "Whoever you are, the rest of em are dead. Don't make any sudden moves and I won't shoot you. Just come on out." Frank orders of the voice.

Rocket has posed:
Pow. Pow. Blam. Murdered. But not by Rocket.

This guy is playing for keeps, clearly. The miniature mobster scowls and after the customer is apparently also killed, and the dealer left crying with his knees blown out, the fuzzy member of the Guardians of the Galaxy gets back up and moves into view. The man with the skull on the front of his suit sees him, but he also sees the business end of a fancy and large weapon trained right at him. The tip crackles with some kind of energy. Electricity, maybe. Perhaps..plasma?

"Yeah, that's all the shooting you're doing around here. Next one's mine. Don't give me a reason. I don't miss, either." Yep, that really is a walking, talking, clothed...raccoon of some kind.

Frank Castle has posed:
To his credit, Frank doesn't flinch as he's aimed at by an alien superweapon. His shotgun is aimed for the racoon briefly, "Neither do I." Frank tells it. Rocket has never seen a man like this before. If Peter had an opposite in looks, demeanor, and attitude... this man would probably be a prime candidate. Cold, almost dead eyes, a deadly serious combat stance... "I'm the Punisher. I don't know you, so I have no reason to target you." The gun is lowered into idle position.

"What's your business? I'm here to clean up this trash and get some spare part."

Rocket has posed:
Rocket, dressed like the little gangster he is, might not cut the most imposing figure. Might even cause someone to chuckle, if not for that weapon. It's not like one the Punisher may have ever seen before, if he's used to more conventional artillery.

Eyes make note of the demeanor of the man from beneath the brim of that fedora, and there's no question he's got some style going on. "You can call me Rocket, humie." And once that 'humie' adjusts the angle of his gun, Rocket trains his downward as well and flicks a knob on the side that causes the crackling energy to dissipate.

"Some nobody told me about this little meeting when I let him know I was interested in a few souvenirs. This place has some nice little pea-shooters, but so far I ain't all that impressed by what I've seen," he remarks. "But if anyone can make it better, you're lookin' at him."

Frank Castle has posed:
There's an inspection from those eyes over the gun, then back up to Rockets eyes. "Some guns here are worthless." Frank agrees, casually. "I know what's good and ad. Been working around guns my entire life."

Frank points the shotgun at one of the cases then, "Bunch of machine guns in there. Those are pretty decent if you're looking for crowd control."

Rocket has posed:
Rocket's muzzle sculpts into a grin, or a scowl, it's not entirely clear. "So have I. Machine guns? Most of my stuff's energy based. It'll freeze ya, it'll zap ya, it'll stun ya, it'll melt ya. You name it, I can get my hands on it. Up there, though." A little hand points skyward. "I been places you can't even imagine."

However, any man with a gun who knows what he's doing with it is a threat, and Rocket feels that in what he sees of the Punisher. Saw it with the kill shots, too. "You work for someone else? This a little side hobby of yours, skull-boy?" The case in question is given a closer look.

Frank Castle has posed:
"I'll show you." Punisher offers as he moves over to the crate involved.

e pulls out an M249 from one of them, and starts loading the drum magazine. The top is secured and cocked, and the shotgun he was holding is slung over his shoulder.

In another moment, he aims from the hip with the M249, and starts firing it full auto right into the frame of the dealers car.

*CRACKCRACKRACKRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK...*

Rocket has posed:
Raising a brow, Rocket looks toward the dealer who is still crying. "Will you shut up? You sound like a big baby, like Quill when he doesn't get his way!"

By the time he's done with that, the Punisher is hauling out the machine gun and Rocket lays his weapon on the ground to watch after crossing his arms. His ears perk as the guy hip-fires into the car. "Not bad, not bad. My turn." What is this? All of a sudden he's interested?

Prying open a larger crate, he licks his lips. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" He climbs in, dropping over the edge of the open crate, and after a bit of rummaging around his head pops back up. "Gimme a minute." A hammering follows at one side of the crate until it's pried loose and falls forward, revealing Rocket hefting up an M134 Minigun, with a gatling-style barrel. It's got to be close to one hundred pounds, and it looks heavier than he is. Yet, he somehow manages to carry it.

"Fire in the hole!" he giggles with apparent glee as the barrel spins up and he turns it toward a van. Seconds later, bullets spit out of it at a speed that's difficult to measure, shells flying. It isn't long before the fuel tank is struck, causing a big boom as the van explodes!

"Hahahaha!" Rocket laughs. Crazy mother...

Frank Castle has posed:
Frank just stares at the obvious overkill... then at the small raccoon holding up a man portable minigun on his own.

It's not the weapon weight that is the issue with firearms; it's the recoil... and thatr M134 has a hefty amount of it. "You're gonna-" And there it goes.

A few seconds later, and Frank sighs, "He had most of his inventory inside there." Frank almost-laments.

Rocket has posed:
There must be something about Rocket that goes beyond what the eye would expect. More strength than expected, or something else that allows him to keep firing.

"What?" he shouts. "I can't hear you!" The warning doesn't register amid the heavy barrage of bullets peppering the van before the big boom.

The bullets stop and the barrel begins to spin back down to an end. By now the fedora has at least fallen off, and Rocket drops the gun with a thud as he walks back out of the open front of the crate. "Eh? Ears are ringing. You said something about that having what?"

He ducks as something else explodes within, and all he can do is merely shrug. "Oops? Maybe if somebody told me that ahead of time.." As if it's Castle's fault. "So what we got left? That was a rush!"

Frank Castle has posed:
"The guns. Were in there." Frank points to the now destroyed van, "If we're lucky, the crates protected the rest. Keep the minigun, I need to work on putting out that fire."

He presses a finger to his ear mounted commlink, "Van, autodrive inside 15 meters."

A non-descript black van suddenly starts to drive into the warehouse, and Frank starts walking over to it, "Take a look around yourself. I need to put out that fire." Frank grates.

Rocket has posed:
Does Rocket look remorseful? Nope. No way. "Can't fault a guy for getting into it," he suggests, giving a look to the minigun as he considers his options. In the meantime, his own weapon is fetched again and he begins to break it down, which in this case reveals part of it articulates outward to extend the size, able to reduce back down to something that fits into the bag he brought.

The arrival of the van is noted, and he waits to see if anyone comes piling out of it before returning to the minigun itself. "I could have some fun with this," he says, a massive understatement. "So you got the rest of whatever's left? If you're worried about anything, I ain't gonna be on this mudball much longer anyway. We got some business to deal with somewhere else. If you /don't/ hear about it, take that as a good thing."

Frank Castle has posed:
"That's usually how it works." Punisher glances to Rocket as he pulls out a fire suppressor and starts to work on the other van. "Where are you going?"

Rocket has posed:
Rocket pauses to watch the fire being dealt with. He keeps his distance from that, however. Good reasons behind not wanting to be too close to a source of heat and flames.

"Ahh, I got a crew. Even got a humie with us. You ever hear of the Guardians of the Galaxy? That's us. Maybe you seen a video we made a while back, maybe not. It doesn't matter." Shrugging as he deals with getting the minigun dealt with further - maybe he can modify it for a different type of ammo - he adds, "We're dealing with a big threat way out there and, uh, trying to get someone back. Thought I might find something down here that could help, and that's how I ended up here."

Gesturing toward Frank, he adds, "I ain't saying this because I care that much, but is this what you do for a living?"

Frank Castle has posed:
"For a living... no. I do this to punish those who would ruin the lives of others." Frank tells Rocket as he finishes up putting out the fire... and starts loading his own van, "Making a living would imply I do this to survive. I don't."

Rocket has posed:
"Haha. Oh, I get it. Punish. Punisher. /Very/ clever," Rocket says, giving Frank an exaggerated wink. What could that mean? Is he being sincere? Sarcastic? Can anyone here really know the way he is just like that? "I rock, and that's why I'm called Rocket." Is /that/ sincere or sarcastic?

Grunting once as he hoists the minigun up again, he mutters, "Well, I ain't gonna be here much longer. I can hear a few sirens and from what I know that means someone's chasing the Dukes of Hazzard or there's probably some guy running around with half his clothes missing. I saw it on your, uh, video screens the last time we were here. It looks like you got things all taken care of. And don't worry, I'll take real good care of this." He caresses the barrel.

Frank Castle has posed:
"Don't believe everything you see on the television. A good bunch of it is lies." Frank informs Rocket as he begins to leave the scene, "If you're ever back around, I'll give you a crash course on the real history of our planet."